#julia's post reminded me of this and now I am haunted by it...

[chiropteracupola]

thinkin about the imaginary timeline where antonia sharpe and fanny and charlotte aubrey are friends again...

[thegrinningghost]

LOTFTOBER, DAY 18 : Lyrics

Welp, I'm back, finishing off any prompts I have left or want to do even though October has technically already passed.

Oh well, doesn't matter much right? Lotf year-round!

Anyway, take some lyrics I've had sitting around in my head.

_

[Percival]

When I grow up

I will be tall enough to reach the branches

That I need to reach to climb the trees

You get to climb when you’re grown up

[Piggy]

And when I grow up

I will be smart enough to answer all

The questions that you need to know

The answers to, before your grown up

[Sam’nEric]

And when I grow up

I will eat sweets everyday on the way to work

And I will go to bed late every night

[All The Littluns, Piggy, + The Twins]

And I will wake up

When the sun comes up

And I will watch cartoons until my eyes go square

[The Choir + Ralph]

And I won’t care cause I’ll be all grown up

When I grow up

[The Choir]

When I grow up

[Ralph’s Tribe]

When I grow up

[The Littluns]

When I grow up

[Everyone]

I will be strong enough to carry all

The heavy things you have to haul around with you

When you’re a grown up

And when I grow up

[The Choir]

When I grow up

[Ralph’s Tribe + Littluns]

When I grow up

[Everyone]

I will be brave enough to fight the creatures

That you have to fight beneath the bed

Each night to be a grown up

And when I grow up (when I grow up)

I will have treats everyday

And I’ll play with things that mum pretends

That mums don’t think are fun

And I will wake up (I will wake up)

When the sun comes up

And I will spend all day just lying in the sun

And I won’t burn ‘cause I’ll be all grown up

When I grow up

[Ralph]

When I grow up

I will be brave enough to fight the creatures

That you have to fight beneath the bed

Each night to be a grown up

When I grow up

[Simon]

Just because you find that life’s not fair

It doesn’t mean that you just have to grin and bear it

If you always take it on the chin and wear it

Nothing will change

[Ralph]

When I grow up

[Simon]

Just because I find myself in this story

It doesn’t mean that everything is written for me

If I think the ending is fixed already

I might as well be saying

I think that it’s ok

[Everyone]

And that’s not right!

_

AU: Simon actually is a mystic, and at the constant pleading, hopes, and prayers of many like Jack, God finally sends him a message, albeit, perhaps not the one they hoped for

[Simon, Eyes Closed]

I am the prophet with the answers you seek

Time, I’ve unlocked it

I see past and future running free

There is a world where I help you get home

But that’s not a world I know

[Ralph]

What?

[Simon, Showing Ralph The Stars]

I see a song of past romance

I see the sacrifice of man

I see portrayals of betrayal *mimics Roger’s scary movement*

And a brother’s final stand

I see you on the brink of death *gestures towards Ralph*

I see you draw your final breath *gestures towards Jack*

I see a man who gets to make it home alive *to everyone*

But it’s no longer you *points to Roger on “you”*

[Ralph, Holding His Head]

This can’t be

We’ve suffered and [fought] through the toughest of hells

Now you tell us our effort’s for nothing?

[Simon]

I see [this island] covered in red

Faces of men who had long [wished you] dead

I see your [friend] with a man who is haunting

A man with a trail of bodies

[Ralph, Clutching Simon, Screaming]

Who?

[Simon, Shoving Ralph Off, Opening His Glowing Green Eyes]

I see a song of past romance

I see the sacrifice of man *gestures to Pig*

I see portrayals of betrayal *gestures towards most of Choir and some Littluns*

And a brother’s final stand

I see you one the brink of death *gestures to Ralph*

I see you draw your final breath *gestures to Jack*

I see a man who gets to make it home alive *points to everyone in the crowd*

But it’s no longer .  .  . you *lands on Ralph*

_

Idk how many of y'all have heard of Grace doing posting about making a Julias Caesar musical on Instagram, but it's really cool to follow and this is a WIP song she posted about that just reminded me of two boys I absolutely hold dear. Enjoy!

_

The night before Simon’s death, he’s sitting on the beach as the other boys drift off to sleep. Well, except for the hunters. He and Jack both seem to sense something in the upcoming day; something that strikes them with excitement and awe.

Simon explores this feeling as he treads along the beach while Jack stands upon a rocky cliff-face overlooking the beach, searching for the exact same thing .  .  .

[Simon]

There is a storm in the distance

I can see it

Creeping closer

Lightning strikes in an instant

And thunder shakes the sky

I’ve seen this before, you can’t escape it

Can’t delay it

No point racing rain clouds

The only choice is to brave it

Turn and face it

No running away now

The trees will tremble and fall [starts seeing visions]

The dark will cover the moon

The birds will send out a call [stops seeing visions]

Though the end isn’t soon

The fools in darkened rooms will pray

I don’t believe in all that

But on nights like these, I do

I do

[Jack]

There is no peace in this moment

Not on Earth [looking around]

[Simon + Jack]

Nor in the heavens [looking up at the sky]

[Jack]

But then, what’s one more opponent? [hits his spear against the rocks]

Even—

[Simon + Jack]

—Tempests have their endings

[Both]

I know the others are watching

Do they think I’m one to hide? [Simon glance at the shelters, Jack turns to look at the choir lazing about]

There is a hurricane deep inside me [Simon clutching his heart, Jack grinning]

That I cannot deny

They’ll say I’ve angered the gods [Simon scared, Jack angry]

They’ll jeer as I take the floor [Simon holding his head and pacing, Jack balancing along the edge of the cliff, staring at the shelters]

And they’ll say we’re the first,

But we’ve been here before [Simon looks up at the cliff-face, Jack looks down at the beach]

And in my fear, I’m drawn to pray

I can’t run from the fight

What am I here praying for? [Simon deflective, Jack remorseful]

[Jack, Same Time As Simon]

.  .  . a storm in the distance

I can see it

Lightning strikes in an instant

An answer I already

Know .  .  .

[Simon, Same Time As Jack]

I don’t see how this can end well

I can’t prophesize the fate of [home]

Tell me how, and tell me now

An answer I already

Know .  .  .

[a-small-startup]

Bon Appétit

I haven't tumbled here in a while. I haven't written a story in a while. Not only that, but I look at old poems and think of storing them somewhere. I look at the ways in which I have narrated stories and I save them to watch later. I look at the scribblings at the back of my notebook, but before I could finish reading them, the to-do list from the front pages start haunting me. Furthermore, I open my laptop to look for some inspiration to write, you see I haven't written in a while. But then I lose the confidence to write. The “Tha ka dhi mi, tha ka ju nu” notes my roommate sings for the kids of her classical dance class rings in my head as I try to find a subject to write about. The tabs open in my laptop reminds me of the work I have to finish before the dawn of tomorrow, because Human Resources has asked me to finish tasks and have a new reporting format. But then I want to write. I want to write the same way Julia cooks in the film Julie and Julia; or is it Julia and Julie. It's my favourite film, and yet I keep forgetting the name.

I try to play a film in the background, some music that plays through my phone, Excel sheets and presentation decks, phone calls and emails. I'm multitasking, I tell myself. I've been multitasking for so many years, that somewhere I forgot how to perform just one task at a time.

I'm making tea and there's an episode of some random show playing in the background. I'm doing the laundry and there is music playing from my room. I'm bathing and in-between shampoo getting into my eyes and trying to balance on one foot I hear Sheldon Cooper explaining the theory of asymmetry.

I'm also a mental health professional, while I keep telling my clients to not google their symptoms, I struggle to restrain myself from self diagnosing.

The phone chimes and I know it's my best friend from miles away telling me her day went equally bad and at the end of the day we'll video call each other just to say “Life sucks (Exclamation point)”

I know I'm deviating from what I started writing about, I have no idea what I'm writing about. I think of sending the link to my partner once I finish posting this, but then there is a voice in the corner of my head that says I'll not post this, that I'll do Ctrl+A and click delete.

I know I shouldn't. It's after ages I decide to write, why shouldn't the world see it. At this point, you would be wondering why did I break into a new paragraph, do I have something to say? Am I changing the subject? Maybe yes. Because as I write this, I think of the first post I made somewhere in October 2017, and I can see the spelling and grammatical errors on that post. Not saying there aren't any now. By this time, all the above paragraphs have 5+ errors. The multiple grammar tools on my windows have come up, shooting red lines on the error. I ignore it for now. I can proofread much later.

So, what am I writing? I'm writing about not writing. I'm writing about having hated the urge to get my writing validated from strangers online, who have now become acquaintances. I'm writing about how my Instagram page is now non-existent and my Tumblr page had long died. But I will still shout to the world and tell them that I have gone back to writing, that I will write on a random day after a random period of time.

Adiós reader!

[flowerslut]

BREAKING DAWN Part 1 & Part 2

an updated, more modern take on the original soundtrack.

(TWILIGHT) (NEW MOON) (ECLIPSE)

spotify link — BD pt1 spotify link — BD pt2

[track list and commentary under the cut]

Part One

 Endtapes — The Joy Formidable  ➼ ➼ ➼ I Will Be Waiting — Let’s Eat Grandma

This soundtrack starts off so strongly that I had no choice but to pick one that can kick it off just as well. Let’s Eat Grandma might be my favorite band I’ve found this year. Their genre-bending is exquisite.

Love Will Take You — Angus & Julia Stone  ➼ ➼ ➼ Need Ur Luv (Japanese Wallpaper Remix) — Charli XCX

Talk to me a year ago and tell me I was going to be putting Charli on a Twilight soundtrack recreation and I would’ve stared blankly and asked “fucking how?” Well, with this incredible Japanese Wallpaper remix, that’s how.

It Will Rain — Bruno Mars ➼ ➼ ➼ In My Blood — Shawn Mendes 

And how do you replace baby Bruno? Well, only with today’s romantic power-balad singing baby, Shawn Mendes. It’s a perfect replacement, if you ask me.

Turning Page — Sleeping at Last  ➼ ➼ ➼ For Now - Reimagined — Kina Grannis

Any other 2009-era Kina Grannis stans? Message From Your Heart? All those YouTube covers? No, just me? Whatever. Kina belonged on those soundtracks back then, and this is setting things right.

From Now On — The Features  ➼ ➼ ➼ Cliffs Edge — Hayley Kiyoko

One of Hayley’s older songs, so it’s not too new, but I felt that is matched From Now On’s mood fantastically.

A Thousand Years — Christina Perri  ➼ ➼ ➼  human — Christina Perri

No, this isn’t cheating. But only Christina Perri can truly replace Christina Perri. It’s also a perfect pre-change Bella song. I’m sure you heard this song everywhere at the end of the saga when everyone took to YouTube to make their cathartic recap videos. 2012-13 was a great (but weird) year to be a Twilight stan.

Neighbors — Theophilus London ➼ ➼ ➼ FACE — BROCKHAMPTON

Whether you like BROCKHAMPTON or not means little to me. They were absolutely ending up on one of these soundtracks. And as replacement to Neighbors, it’s like they belong. “Tell me what you’re waiting for? I just want to love you.” Ouch. Harsh Jacob vibes.

I Didn’t Mean It — The Belle Brigade ➼ ➼ ➼ All out of Tears — Z Berg

Z Berg created a song that sounded like it was made for one of these soundtracks. It’s insane. And one of my fucking favorites.

Sister Rosetta — Noisettes  ➼ ➼ ➼ Digital Witness — St. Vincent

The Twilight soundtracks (and also Sufjan Stevens himself) are responsible for introducing me to St. Vincent. Now, years later, she’s consistently been one of my favorite artists. She has the range, y’all.

Northern Lights — Cider Sky  ➼ ➼ ➼ Pool — Paramore

Of course I was putting Paramore back on one of these lists, you crazies. (And this isn’t the last you’ll see of them, either.) 

Flightless Bird, American Mouth (Wedding Version) — Iron & Wine ➼ ➼ ➼ New America Classic — Vitamin String Quartet

There isn’t a wedding version of New American classic, but there is a Vitamin String Quartet version! (And no offense Iron & Wine, but it sounds so much more like an actual wedding song.) Any OG Twilight stans know that in this house, we love and cherish the Vitamin String Quartet. They were like our musical savior back in the day. Couldn’t find a decent quality soundtrack upload? No worries. Odds are, they’d already recorded an insane strings cover already.

Requiem on — Imperial Mammoth  ➼ ➼ ➼ Waste — Oh Wonder

I unashamedly adore this song by Oh Wonder. Their dual vocals always put me in a damn trance. It’s so beautiful to describe. Just listen.

Cold — Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz ➼ ➼ ➼ Willow (feat. Robert Pattinson) — Tindersticks

Told you I’d stick him back on the soundtracks eventually. This song is so hauntingly perfect. When I first heard it it reminded me why I was so in love with Robert back in the day. That voice, man. Talent leapt!

Lloverá — Mía Maestro  ➼ ➼ ➼ Silence II — Son Lux

It’s not as beautiful as the Carmen actress’ ballad, but it’s just as haunting.

Love Death Birth — Carter Burwell  ➼ ➼ ➼ Sæglópur — Sigur Rós

When I went through my Sigur Rós phase way back when (pre-Twilight) Sæglópur was my favorite song for ages. It takes you through the whole spectrum of emotion, just as Carter Burwell’s music does. I thought it was an ideal way to end this first half.

You still get bonus tracks! Here’s two for the first movie:

Otherside — Perfume Genius

Simple. Powerful. Emotional. All you need at this point in the saga.

Everything In Its Right Place — Radiohead 

A song that feels like waking up from a dream. Perfect for Bella’s dramatic change. (And of course I had to actually add Radiohead to one of these.)

Part Two

Where I Come From — Passion Pit  ➼ ➼ ➼ Manchester — Kishi Bashi

Bella deserves to see the world for the first time with vampire eyes while Kishi Bashi magically transforms the scene in the background. It’s *chef’s kiss* literal perfection. 

Bittersweet — Ellie Goulding  ➼ ➼ ➼ Warrior — AURORA

Can I go off topic for half a second and tell you guys that I cried when I saw AURORA featured on the new Frozen song? No one deserves that wide recognition as much as she does. And no one does mystical pop better than AURORA (not even Ellie Goulding).

The Forgotten — Green Day ➼ ➼ ➼ Warm Winds (feat. Isaiah Rashad) — SZA

SZA deserves this spot and don’t even question why. SZA’s first album was so iconically emo. She’s another artist I’m convinced would’ve been reached out to for a track if she’d been making music just a little bit earlier.

Fire In The Water — Feist ➼ ➼ ➼ Carry Me Out — Mitski

Even though I’ve been a Feist fan since I got my first vocal comparison to her pre-Twilight (so I was ecstatic when she was featured here) I think Mitski really encapsulates everything a Twilight soundtrack needs.

Everything and Nothing — The Boom Circuits ➼ ➼ ➼ Highspeeds — Elliot Moss

I can’t not give Elliot Moss a spot. And that's it.

The Antidote — St. Vincent  ➼ ➼ ➼ Unholy Trinity — Von Grey

I needed a harder song for this replacement and Von Grey’s music does the trick. This is the band of an old Tumblr friend that goes fucking hard, y’all. She and her sisters know how to bang out the tunes.

Speak Up — POP ETC  ➼ ➼ ➼ Reasons Not To Die (Demo) — Ryn Weaver

This girl just knows how to fucking get me. Her second and final appearance on the soundtrack, here to just make you want to laugh and cry all at once. And as a replacement to another top favorite, it works well.

Heart of Stone — Iko  ➼ ➼ ➼ Smother — Daughter

Heart of Stone actually made my end of year top tracks playlist for 2018. I knew I needed a solid replacement. And you can never go wrong with a Daughter track.

Cover Your Tracks — A Boy and His Kite  ➼ ➼ ➼ In The Mourning — Paramore

We bid farewell to Paramore with their final appearance here. In The Mourning is another long-time favorite. It’s beautiful. And sad! We love it.

Ghosts — James Vincent McMorrow  ➼ ➼ ➼ Weight — Crywolf

You need that late Breaking Dawn depressing shit? I got you that late Breaking Dawn depressing shit. “Bless me with just one kiss before you leave me here with my heart.”

All I've Ever Needed — Paul McDonald & Nikki Reed ➼ ➼ ➼ Beetroot (What If I Was 1?) — Blue Americans

I can’t describe how double-sad I get when I remember that Paul McDonald & Nikki Reed divorced not long after the saga wrapped. (Not that I ever had an attachment to him, but this song is so nice!) So that’s why Beetroot is a little sadder than All I’ve Ever Needed. Still a great song though.

New for You — Reeve Carney ➼ ➼ ➼ Black Hole — HANA 

Black Hole is a little more pop than New For You. But it’s beautiful and nice and lovely and I am also In Love with HANA. So you get her here.

A Thousand Years (Part 2) — Christina Perri (feat. Steve Kazee) ➼ ➼ ➼ I Get To Love You — Ruelle 

Had had had to put this incredible, romantic, hopeful song at the end of this soundtrack specifically. Just listen and tell me you don’t get emotional over their future with this.

Plus Que Ma Propre Vie (More Than My Own Life) — Carter Burwell ➼ ➼ ➼ Half Life - Instrumental Version — Imogen Heap

How are you supposed to pick a song to end the soundtracks? Thankfully, Imogen Heap had the foresight to release instrumental versions of each song on her Ellipse album. Such a thoughtful queen. We thank her by giving her the final word. 

What’s this? No more? It’s okay. You do get bonus tracks, but not here.

I’ll be posting one more soundtrack, full of all the extras and little gems that I couldn’t quite place in any specific spot on the soundtracks. A whole other playlist full of Twilight-vibey songs for your listening enjoyment! Look out for that next week. Happy New Year!

[proserpine-in-phases]

@nachttour tagged me in a writing question thing!

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

uh yeah there’s like, several. some of them are better developed than other but a lot of the reason I’ve been holding off on writing them just comes down to feeling inadequate due to my own limited experience with relationships and feelings of complete inadequacy. it’s hard to write an epic romancu when I’m aromantic as fuck and have a hard time conceptualizing what those feelings might be like to experience, for example, or like, I want the story to be funny but I feel like I’m not actually a very funny person?

also I always feel like I need to do more research. I get stuck on the research phase about 85% of the time haha

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

man I am embarrassed by MYSELF existing, so  idk probably all of it when you get right down to it

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

it seems to vary a bit. sometimes I just power through start to finish, but sometimes I need to write the ending first to remind myself of what I’m shooting for. sometimes I just gotta write some random scenes in the middle before I forget what they are and have to figure out where they’ll go later.

considering the longest thing I’ve managed to finish comes in at about 12 k  I don’t know if I have enough data to really come up with a firm answer for this one though. from what I can tell, it really does seem like I start at the beginning and go for a bit, write the end, and try to connect the two with occasional random middle bits getting written out of order and a general feeling of “I’ll fix it in post” carrying me through

4) favorite character you’ve written

probably Samantha Traynor. she’s such a fucking nerd and I love her. it was surprisingly easy to write for her once I got started. at least I THINK I did a good job writing her, I have no actual idea haha

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing

I’ve written TWO mass effect fics featuring Samara as a main character and I have no idea how this happened or why because she’s about in the middle when it comes to my most to least favorite mass effect characters list

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

there’s a couple of fics I wrote for fic exchanges that I kinda wish I could take back and turn into something else because I love the concept but feel guilty about idk, using as a springboard because the original is a gift, or something. it feels ehhhhhhhhh disingenuous to continue them when the gift is supposed to be a singular and self contained unit

for example, oh man I would love to take that vrisrezi space pirates au someplace, but I don’t know if I should because the fic itself is a gift, complete, and so forth. 

plus I hate the way I run out of steam about 4 chapters into everything. I would like to not run out of motivation please

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

considering my output is so low I barely consider myself a writer at all tbh.

but yes, embarrassed. I hope to god the three people I know irl who follow me just like. never see those posts haha

8) favorite genre to write

space adventure! and lately? mysteries even though I have no FUCKING idea why or even how to write them, which is why I have at least three projects stalled out on me haha

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

I read a lot, mostly. sometimes I stare at a wall. or play minesweeper. 

also when I’m doing something fairly mindless sometimes my mind wanders and I hit something. 

oh and music. music is great

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

I usually need music, mood music preferable, instrumental so the lyrics don’t distract me. generally I prefer to not be around people when I write, though a public setting is also fun to write in. I’m too distractable to actually get any done though, so I usually end up just looking like a tool with their notebook out if I try to write in a coffee shop or whatever tho, haha

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

I think writing fanfic has really helped me figure out what it means to write in character. also I think I’m starting to get better at balancing dialogue versus narration? at least a little bit

12) your weaknesses as an author

the inability to actually finish shit. 

unwillingness to approach emotions that make me feel uncomfortable. 

the fact that I often approach writing a character with the thought of what I would do in a situation rather than what the character would do (which is why writing fanfiction is helping me with that haha)

coming up with plots that lend themselves well to longer stuff

13) your strengths as an author

pretty good at dialogue

when it comes to my own shit, pretty good at coming up with interesting fantasy worlds (I think they’re interesting at least)

I’ve got a pretty firm grasp overall just the nuts and bolts of writing: I mean I tutored English in college for fuck’s sake I know how to write a grammatically correct run on sentence when I want to 

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?

not really

15) why did you start writing?

I wanted to know what happened next

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

not really? I mean, there are specific character TYPES that’ll get me every time, though, like the happy go lucky person who has to learn what pain is but still come out the other side a LOT worse for wear but not completely broken (think Tasslehoff Burrfoot, or perhaps less obscure Vash the Stampede) but I wouldn’t say they haunt me, per say

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

don’t be afraid to be self indulgent. you’ll enjoy it more and who the fuck cares, anyway? people who’ll make fun of you for doing what you love are ass holes

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

If I’m honest I can’t really say what influences my writing style, if I even have one. Mostly all I can do is list off my favorite authors because I’m pretty sure they all have something to do with it. 

so let’s just do that I guess.  when I was a teenager I tended to find a single author and just read through all their works before moving on, and these are the big ones that stand out:

Connie Willis, Anne McCaffrey, Steven Brust and Ursula K. Le Guin. Connie Willis for the humor she includes in almost all her writing, Anne McCaffrey because I STILL spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about Pern. She had a real skill for coming up with both great characters and great settings, even if what she did with them, and also her inability to keep continuity were less good. Steven Brust introduced me to the idea of relating to morally reprehensible characters at an alarmingly young age. Ursula K. Le Guin, I just love her. No idea if it’s actually done anything GOOD to my writing but she gives me something to aspire to.

I read just. a ridiculous amount of fantasy and science fiction as a kid, the genres as a whole without a doubt influence the type of shit I end up writing. also in seventh grade I mainlined dragonlance, just the whole damn thing

later in college I got really into Margaret Atwood. her focus on female characters and narrative just is really great.  

then I went through a depressive phase in my late 20s and just exclusively read Julia Quinn, Joanna Lindsey, Sabrina Jeffreys and Eloisa James, and that was IT. so I’m pretty sure my foray into the romance genre is what makes me honestly prefer povs limited to two or three characters  hey, reading romance novels also lead me to the realization that I’m aromantic so \o/ I guess

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

I outline and then give up lol

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

little spurts until something grabs me and makes me marathon. usually that’s a deadline, but sometimes it’s also inspiration 

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

mostly just holy shit I can’t believe I wrote this! sometimes that’s bad, sometimes it’s good. I can’t really tell if I’m good at divorcing myself from my writing enough to give me perspective on it, to tell the truth, because for a good lot of it, I still think it’s pretty good so ???

22) are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

it’s hard for me to let a character be embarrassed by the dumb shit they do. I don’t want them to do dumb shit because of it, which makes it hard for the character to have shit to grow and learn from.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

I’m pretty sure my own issues with having and experiencing some emotions makes its way into the stuff I choose to write about, especially when it comes to the original stuff (I have. at LEAST three different plot outlines that involve characters literally losing the ability to experience emotions and having to find a way to heal or gain it back haha)  

also the fic I wrote about the box ghost is literally just about what it’s like to work in a factory haha

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

listen. 

yes.

I fucking. LOVE. research. 

honestly this is the stage where I most often get lost in the weeds, distracted by my own need to know more

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

“He was not the knight Casey taught him to be, but he was close enough for government work“ remains the single best pun I’ve ever written

tagging: @anthropwashere @inktail @manicpixiesdreamdragon if you guys are up for it!

[shelovesrainn]

Lost Scrivener

Perhaps, happiness is on your way. Perhaps, for you, every day means a new venture for hope, love, prosperity, and felicity. But not for me, because for me, witnessing how the sun rises from the east with its brilliant light complementing with the blue sky means darkness, a nightmare that keeps haunting, another set of torture, pain, and sorrow−a torment. Each morning, as I open my eyes, I used to pray with my knees bended, my eyes closed, and my heart fast beating. My plea may not be the typical one for a 20-year-old; my prayer revolves around I, hoping for meeting someone who can pull me out of this chaos or I, pleading for this ineffable pain arousing inside me to vanish. None of these was heard, though. So, I got exhausted asking for those pieces of crap daily and started embodying and accepting the fact that perhaps, I was created to crave for that so-called happiness; perhaps, I was given life to be miserable.

The bus stopped at a familiar spot which is way too ironic to say, because my feet never stepped in this place before. Maybe what makes it familiar thou, is the vivid picture of it that I’ve been dreaming of every single night. And the moment I wake up, my body would shiver as the deafening beats of my heart prevailed over the loud noises from a bunch of city vehicles, like of a teenager’s seeing her childhood crush. Since then, I unconsciously desired to reach that place someday. I worked every day excluding Sundays and saved most of the fee they’re giving me for that. If you will ask me, for what reason, I weren’t able to provide you an answer because to be honest, I don’t either know. I saw a reflection of a pale maiden looking at me intently. Her hair is short, her face is cute, her lips are bitsy and only her pink tip tint gives color in it, her pair of eyes are small like of the Chinese and as dark as the sky at night, her long eyelashes are curvy, and the moles on her face are what you’ll never fail to notice. However, she has several marks of pimples all over her face and some huge dark circles around her eyes−evidences of hundreds of sleepless nights and tiring sobs. She isn’t novelty, she is just an ordinary, she is me.

I got back on my senses when the bus conductor yelled telling that we already reached our destination. The people went out of the vehicle carrying their baggage with them. I assume that they’re having their vacation, but it’ll sound ridiculous because it’s already July which is supposed to be time for labor. I carried my bags and went off the bus. My body welcomed the fieriness that the breeze of air is offering early in the morning. The blasting sounds of the water hitting the immense rocks of the ocean is like a lullaby from a loving mother that an infant is longing to hear for decades. The salty scent of the sea creatures tingles my nose. I smiled, for I know I am here. At last, I am finally here. I navigate towards the bluish piece of solace as the delineate visual of it in my visions simultaneously flashes in my mind. I realized that the paradise I’m staring at the present is more flabbergasting than of in my dreams. I sat on the pure white sand of the brine, relishing my own company. I wonder how and when do this desire of mine started. When I closed my eyes, the answer rapidly popped.

It was one Sunday morning when a blaring voice of a woman awakened me. Her voice was full of worries. It was easy for me to distinguish that it was my mother’s because I knew how she sounded very well. “Where did he come from? Is he alright?” my grandmother asked from the first floor.

“I…I have no idea. Hand me a bowl of cold water, please!” she retorted almost sounded like crying. I stayed silent in bed for a while for I cannot understand what was going on. However, anticipations are all over my head. I felt my chest heavies but still, I managed to be at ease and shake the bad ideas I’m having away. I heard my father crying and repeatedly uttering, “I’m sorry. I should have died instead.” Based from his voice, I knew he was badly wrecked.

Nica, my older sister came and sat beside me, she said, “The car was severely damaged.” There is a hint of grief on her tone, yet she is covering it with her most fabricated smile. I went down to check my father and the car. Gladly, it wasn’t that critical. My father got few wounds on the head, and several bruises on his arms and legs. However, that morning, marked my very first heartbreak. It was because, that day, I found out with my own eyes, the affair of my beloved father with an unknown lady.

The family where I belong to seems to be an epitome of perfection for many. We barely brag each other onto serious arguments, we set barricades to each member of the family lower than of the others, and we are used to be happy and genuine. But even the firmest post has to give up. I accepted the fact that there is no longer a way to repair and reconstruct this broken pillar. Maybe it can be rejuvenated but the stability can never be brought back.

“Hey, cutie! Can I sit beside you?” A stranger suddenly appeared from nowhere. He noticed my frowning face, so he continued to speak, "Hi, I am Danni. And you are?" I should have ignored this guy, but my inner self is saying he isn't bad. So, there's no way running away from him.

"Veronica." He smiled. His reaction is telling me that he already knows who I am, but I shook that thought away because I might probably be hallucinating.

"It's nice to finally be with you again, Veronica. It's been 10 years and nothing much has changed." He said.

That was my first time meeting him. Well, technically, it was not because I discovered that Danni and I are classmates during our primary school days. He was once a mama's boy who always got towel at her back and baby powder on the face and neck. He was the blithesome child sitting beside me for three consecutive years, I think. We used to be that close before not until we moved into another place.

"You left without proper farewell. I searched for you every day, but I didn't see any hints of you. Every day without you is darkness. For the long 10 years that we were apart, I'm hoping for your return. I felt hopeless to see you again. Now, that you're finally here by my side, I cannot afford to lose you one more time. I don't want to miss you again." His eyes were full of sincerity that afternoon when he was uttering those words. I am not aware of his feelings toward me, so I was a bit surprised with his confession. I don't know what to say or how to react. I stayed unspoken. I stared at his eyes, they are as brown as my favorite caramel coffee during rainy seasons. Those were once what I adored about him because aside from reminding me my favorite beverage, they mirror his soul. However, those eyes were what I abhorred the most as well. Those eyes became my greatest foe. It began when the sincerity of it vanished; lies underlies those eyes.

Our first year were pretty blissful. Though far from each other, we never failed to express our affection. We ensured to find time for us. Nevertheless, happiness seems to be ephemeral; misapprehension aroused. I felt like I was being taken for granted. I left; he chased me. I was too heartless, but I only did that because I foresee how our ending will be. Perchance, this is where I am credible at−overthinking then, creating my own ending.

Unconsciously, I headed toward my consolation. My body trembled as the glacial salty water slowly soaks me. I sluggishly shut my eyes, feeling the placidity that this paradise is giving. Perhaps, I have the same fate as of my mother's. Perhaps, I am not meant to meet the valiant one who has the audacity to save me out of this abyss. Perhaps, happiness is too much to ask. Perhaps, for me, happiness is unattainable. Perhaps, this is what I've been yearning for, all this time.

"I'm sorry, Veronica. I know I made something bad. I hurt you. I'm crying every night because of what I've done. I'm crying because I don't know if you still love me. What I only knew is that I'm going to lose you again. I don't want that to happen. Please tell me you still do love me. Please, stay with me. I'm still here, waiting for you. I love you." That was the last words I heard from him, the same exact words my father articulated to my awful mother. I promised to myself that that was the last time I'm ever getting a glimpse back of our story. This will be the last time I'll be remembering how the sun rises from the east amd how its light gorgeously complements the blue sky because now, together with the sun setting to the west, I am closing the book. Up until the end, I have written my own finale. This is my ending.

[l-l-kristofferson]

My Last Semester Of School

For those who have been following me on Instagram, you guys have been up to date about things I've been doing. Including the fact that I have finally finished school as of Thursday the 14th. When I finished, I could not describe the feeling that came over me. It was pure and utter joy. I have been going to school since I was five years old. I am about to turn twenty-two next month. That's nearly seventeen years of school. Seventeen years of busting my ass. Seventeen years of stress, irritation, and frustration. But after all that, I have finished with the best grades I've ever had. For the first time since I've been in college, I made the Dean's List. And I am proud of myself.

Although it is the end, the road to get here was not an easy one. There were numerous challenges that I faced to get to this point. I could not have made it without the support of my mom and stepdad, my friends and their kindness, my teachers, my classmates, and the countless number of customers that encouraged me while I was at work. I would also like to thank the staff at my school: my friends in the lunchroom, my friends in the library, my friends at the bookstore, and the many friends I made through the social events I attended in my final semester. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you all. For your kindness, sincerity, and encouragement. It really carried me through.

Now to get into specifics.

The summer before my final semester, I sought out an internship. To do this, I had to seek out the coordinator of the Experimental Learning program, Angela. She was the sweetest and most hip of most of the people I had met at my school. She liked a lot of the music I liked. Brownie points for that. So she was my push to get the perfect internship. She helped me every step of the way. From the search, to the interview, to the resume, to the cover letter, and to the final stages. I came to her when I was having issues with my internship. For those who don't know, I interned in downtown Philadelphia at a place called US Dream Academy. It is a wonderful program that provides a lot of opportunities for children and teenagers. I got a chance to interact with the staff behind the scenes and the kids on some level. Although it was a good program, my contact person was not the best at communication. Which made no sense since they had Drexel interns and volunteers. Long story short, I had few hours and it was nearing the end of the semester. In light of that situation, I had to get another internship. I interned with the Associate Dean of the Arts at my school. I've had her as a teacher before so we had a preexisting relationship.

At the end of it all, I succeeded in my assignments from both internships. I made a post about author and writer Julia Kristeva. If you have not seen that one, go check it out. It is titled "I Love Writing" and it was by far one of my favorite assignments ever. My favorite assignment of all time was designing a poetry workshop for the kids of US Dream Academy. It was a six week program and it was a tedious task. But it was something I loved. I hope they get someone with as much enthusiasm as me to teach it.

If the internships weren't enough pressure, I had to do the homework for six classes. That's a full course load for a full time student. The least to take for a full time student is twelve credits (four classes). I was taking eighteen (six classes). I was initially supposed to take five classes with the internship being something extra. But when it was fully integrated and now a requirement in order to graduate, I was shit out of luck when I thought I could just drop the internship when I wasn't getting the hours. Thanks to Angela and the Associate Dean, it was all made possible. Some of the assignments were ridiculous, especially from my Junior Seminar class. This teacher wanted us to do weekly responses, do a minimum of a five page paper and read three to four hundred page books in a WEEK. A WEEK! I know this is college but come on. We have other classes to attend to. This guy assumed we could solely devote ourselves to his work and get it all done. Despite all this, I got a B in his class. It only got fun near the end when we got to the Zombie Apocalypse. I love that stuff sooooooo much. I love all things zombie.

When I wasn't at home doing homework, out at my internship, or at home sleeping, I was at work. I wasn't scheduled a lot but I was always scheduled to close during the week. The night shift on a weekday is very busy when you work in retail. This is the time that people get out of work and come to pick up the things they need for dinner, the house, or things for their families. The busiest days at the store are Mondays, Fridays, the first of the month, and weekends. If you work in retail, you know that this is all true. At my job, I would have to snack on something during my shift. I only got a half hour lunch. That isn't enough time to relax and eat. So I would have to buy snacks to sustain me as I worked.

During my break, I would listen to music and text so I could detox. Those who have never had a job in retail think that it is easy to be a Sales Associate. You have to deal with customers that get angry when things aren't a dollar or the price they want it to be (I work at Dollar General. Because dollar is in the name, everyone thinks it's a dollar store), customers messing up displays and merchandise, leaving carts in the parking lot, and putting things back because they can't afford it. I have some words of advice for most of the customers that come into my store: please read the signs closely and come in with a budget. If you did that, you wouldn't have problems you have when you come in.

If I wasn't dealing with anything about school or work, I would have to deal with problems in my personal life. For those who have followed me and have gotten to know me, you know I suffer from horrible insomnia. So I normally don't sleep well at night. And when I can't sleep, I am up writing or chatting online. On a lot of mornings, I would have to drink a strong cup of tea to get through the day. I try to drink as little caffeine as possible so I don't end up dependent on it. But I would always deal and get through the day. Thank you Lipton black tea for keeping me awake on those long school days.

But when it wasn't sleep problems, it was problems with my mood, hygiene, and basic self care. In a previous post, I spoke about my two and a half month low in a crippling depression. That spanned throughout most of the semester. It wasn't until mid November that things started to improve. So from the end of August until mid November, it was a struggle to even get out of bed. I nearly lost myself. But I held on and got the help I needed. I thank those who supported me through that hard time and lifted me up to get to this part of my journey. You are all wonderful people.

Now I'll talk about the fun stuff.

I got really close to my friends Amber, Meggie, Jordan, and Rich. There were countless others like my friend Chris (Big Brother), my fellow loco Puerto Rican Manny, my very close female friend (I've talked about her before), my friend Karyn (Danni), and my good friend and coworker Adriel.

This year, I got to help out at my school's haunted house, which my friend Meggie ran this year. We raised money for the Ferocious Fighters, a charity that supported research and treatment for the neurological condition RSD. My friend Meggie suffers from the condition and has for nearly five years. She is by far the strongest friend I've ever had. She has to deal with constant pain everyday. But she doesn't complain and she faces every single day with a bright smile and a strong sense of determination. I admire her very much. She is a fighter like me. And the kindest soul. I love you Meggie.

My friends Amber and Jordan were like the dynamic duo. I would hang out in their class if I happened to be free on Thursdays. We would chat it up and have a good laugh. Jordan was the king of memes. He would make them all the time. He is also my go to guy when it comes to anime pictures. If I ever needed something, he was there to find it. As for Amber, she was queen of Vans merch, along with being queen of the bands The Front Bottoms and Modern Baseball. She reminds me of Tina from Bob's Burgers. When the three of us were together, Jordan was Gene, Amber was TIna, and I was Louise (mostly because I was an outspoken, crazy and at times mischievous guy). They enjoyed my weird humor and quirkiness.

Thank you guys for being my friends. You brightened my days when they seemed so bleak. For listening to my problems and never turning me away. You guys will always have a place in my heart and a place in my phone. I've never met a group of people so awesome. And Alisitie, don't think I forgot about you. I love you too you amazing human being.

This post was not only about me. It was also to appreciate all the people that played a part in me getting to this place. I love you all so much. Words cannot describe what you mean to me. I am grateful for you.

Quick update for you guys. I have a new email address to interact with you guys. If you want that email, DM me here. I will also post my social media and story handles for you.

Instagram: lame_dude_20 (Profile picture of Roxas)

Kik: kingsebastianisdead (Profile picture of Ventus. Username is The Roxas Joker)

Wattpad: WarriorEmpath

I will be posting a yaoi vignette on Wattpad before the new year. So stick around for that.

Thanks for listening. Write again soon.

[sologxlaxies]

Sofi’s Season’s Change Writing Challenge

Yes, it’s me again! So, I just realised it’s been about a year since I started this blog, and it also matches me moving to a whole new country and experiencing seasons for the first time (Yes, we do not have seasons in the Equator...) and in order to celebrate, I thought about hosting a season themed writing challenge. Thank you so much for sticking with me and supporting me, and let’s hope the road ahead is just as bright <3

Rules:

Must be following this clumsy sunflower (me)

Likes/reblogs on this post are appreciated but don’t count as an entry

All writing genres are allowed! that means fluff, angst, smut, etc... 

It can be a Drabble, one-shot, multi chaptered fic... whatever you like!

Send me an ask with the song/sentence/prompt of your choice but make sure it’s not already taken

Please include the character you’re writing for in the ask (you can pick any Marvel or Seb character)

Please use your prompt accordingly. This means that the plot of your fic should fit with whatever season and prompt you choose. 

Either one-shots, drabbles or multi part fics are fine! as long as they’re minimum 500 words long

AU’s are more than welcome! (I love AU’s)

The due date for the fics will be October 25th. If it’s a series, the first part needs to be posted on or before the due date.

I understand that life can be difficult, so if you need more time to post or need to drop out for any reason, please let me know at least 24 hours before the due date, and don’t worry! Just give me a heads-up. 

Tag me in your fics when you post them! I’ll be making a masterlist with your submissions. Please use  #sofi’s scwc as a tag so that  I can keep track of them and reblog your posts.

If you have any questions, feel free to sed me an ask or message and I’ll do my very best to answer!

But first, here’s a little explanation...

I’ve split the prompts into four categories, and because it’s a season themed writing challenge, the categories are: spring, summer, autumn and winter. Each category is divided into: songs/lyrics, sentences and general prompts! What’s a general prompt, you might be asking yourself? One example is: sunglasses. That’s it! it can either be an element or a general situation if you don’t want to include a specific sentence in your fic, and they’re all related to each of the seasons. Whatever prompt you choose, please make sure to include it in your work. 

Now let’s have some fun, shall we?

Spring

1. Ho Hey - The Lumineers (holy-smoaks96 -> Steve)

2. Open Spaces - Marc Robillard

3. “I missed the sunlight” (supersoldierslover -> Steve)

4. “We’re going outside today! No staying home and huddling inside, nope.”

5. “But I brought flowers!” (marvelle -> Steve)

6. Picnics (bladebarnes -> Bucky)

7. Bare feet

8. Getting caught in the rain (untimelyideasforstories -> Bucky)

Blue Jeans - Lana del Rey (Persephone-is-her-omg -> Chase)

Garden escapades

“You taste so sweet’

“No amount of fruit tarts is going to make me change my mind, but nice try.”

Summer

9. “Summer’s meant for loving and leaving” White mustang - Lana del Rey (rotisserie-rogers -> Bucky)

10. Summertime Sadness - Lana del Rey (sanjariti -> Steve)

11. Cheap Sunglasses - RAC (-alltimelilly- -> Tony)

12. “Are you... wearing a suit? at the beach?” (theassetseyeliner -> Carter Baizen)

13. “You look amazing” (aelin-blackstairs -> Bucky)

14. Stargazing (a-splash-of-stucky -> Steve)

15. Going to a music festival

16. Barbecues (fanlove-fandomlife -> Bucky)

Summer lovin’ - Grease

13 Beaches - Lana del Rey

“I wish we could stay here forever”

“It’s the thing about summer love... Nobody ever talks about it like it’s supposed to last” (hellomissmabel -> Bucky)

Autumn

17. Shiver - Coldplay (whothehellisbella -> Bucky)

18. Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood (captnbarnesrogers -> Steve)

19. “Don’t tell me this is your first hot chocolate!” (wingtaken -> Bucky)

20. “Did we just interrupt them doing what I think they’re doing?” (whothehellisaemun -> Bucky)

21. “I’m telling you, this is my pumpkin. If you want it, you’re gonna have to fight me” (buckys-fossil -> Bucky)

22. “pumpkin spice...what?” (sgtbxckybxrnes -> Bucky)

23. “Who knew baking cookies was this hard?” (buckys-shield -> Bucky)

24. “Don’t be afraid” (haven-in-writing -> Steve)

25. Camping (denialanderror -> Bucky)

26. Haunted houses (dammitparker -> Steve)

27. Corn mazes (whiskeyandwashitape -> Bucky)

“It’s your fault that we’re stuck here in the middle of the night” (tasting-writers-block -> Bucky)

“Don’t look at me like that, this was not my idea” (onceupenahiddleston -> Bucky)

“I swear to you, that thing just moved.”

Brooklyn Baby - Lana del Rey

Winter

28. I’ll Find You - Lecrae, Tori Kelly 

29. Snow - Angus and Julia Stone

30. Winter song - The Head and the Heart

31. “Sorry, it’s not me, it’s the eggnog” (just-some-drabbles -> Bucky)

32. “You remind me of the Grinch, you know? Except his heart grows three sizes and you stay an asshole”  (Buckthegrump -> Bucky)

33. “It’s not an ugly sweater!” (twisnies -> Peter Parker)

34. “You look cute when you’re cold” (starker parker -> Bucky)

35. “Here, you can borrow my blanket” (buckysinthesinbin -> Bucky)

36. Getting snowed in (themcuhasruinedme -> Sam)

37. New year’s Eve kiss (call-her-little-bird -> Bucky)

38. Frostbite (the-witching-hours12-3 -> Clint)

“You can’t carry mistletoe around so that other people will kiss you. That’s called cheating”

Going Christmas gift shopping (vibraniom -> Steve)

“How am I not expected to freeze if you’re holding all the blankets?”

Beautiful people Beautiful problems - Lana del Rey ft. Stevie Nicks

[feministangertranslator]

The Daily Deluge

Image from Femstella

Bombshells big and small are being dropped daily as the result of the #metoo movement. I feel disappointed I don't have more hours in the day to read every tidbit of news about what is shaping up to be another major chapter in feminism, let alone sit down, process, and write about my perspective on it. I really wanted to have written more here by now. I am so busy loving the smell the Napalm in the morning, it’s hard to get much of anything else done.  Sometimes I want to call in sick to everything and everybody, make a bowl of popcorn and watch the patriarchy burn down from the comfort of my cozy home.  Honestly, I could eat this shit up all day and don’t want to miss a minute of it.

This, unfortunately, leads me to often find myself in ravenous consumption mode as opposed to thoughtful and deliberate output mode: I am devouring all of the news of the men who have been accused of sexual misconduct and their (mostly ridiculous) statements - I’m not even going to call those PR and attorney crafted liability avoiders apologies. Equally, I enjoy all of the beautiful heart-filled articles, posts, and videos from other survivors of sexual assault who are expressing reactions, thoughts, and feelings to which I strongly relate. I have a docket of saved articles in my Facebook account, tons of bookmarked Instagram posts, and cued up podcasts competing for my attention. I have to force myself to pull out of the social media rabbit hole, get up and away from my computer (sometimes TV) to go brush my teeth, straighten my hair, put food in my mouth, earn money, and do other things that are vital to taking care of myself. They seem so much more boring in comparison to the day of reckoning that seems to be unfolding right before my eyes.

I must resist this siren call for a few reasons. Firstly, I know this is the position our capitalist society wants me in: too busy watching, ingesting, consuming, buying, and promoting the ideas and goods being peddled by others to get angry about all the more important injustices and inequities from the fallout of capitalism befalling me and the rest of us. Fuck that. That is one of the reasons why I stopped working in television. I couldn't imagine myself working so hard to be (if I were so lucky) a part of a successful show; at the end of the day, even the best creation will always be an opiate of the people to me.

Whether it is the thoughts, theories, or products of others, like most of us Americans, I have been trained to consume and have reveled in it for too long. (My family is Romanian and I can definitely see the difference in some of our shopping and lifestyle habits). And I want to use my time, energy, effort, voice and dollars to only support who and what I believe in, and what will support and sustain me. It’s not just money that I have to be concerned with, it’s time and energy - which frankly, are more precious, and affect me, my psyche and actions, and therefore my life, tremendously.

What I choose to consume has to have the purpose either to benefit, uplift or inspire me, too. Because I am also dying to create and share I have to be mindful to not overconsume to numb myself out and satiate the fire inside me to make stuff. While part of me wants America to take a few cues from the Nordic market economy model or conversely maybe give Libertarianism a real shot, American capitalism can obviously work for others, albeit a select handful. So I have to believe I am also worthy of a piece of that pie, and there has to be a market for what I have to offer.  

For example, I find myself obsessing about the Roy Moore story. I need to constantly remind myself that paying too much attention to him and Leigh Corfman, with whom I identify with strongly who was brave enough to shed light on how he molested her by grooming and taking advantage of her, at some point puts me in the observer and consumer mode. If I’m not careful, the contact high I get from her beautiful inspired acts can placate me enough to detract from what I can do for myself, too. It is definitely easier to watch her do it than to put myself out on a limb in the public eye, even though I passionately want to get out there myself.

As a woman who was at many points throughout my childhood, adolescence, and even adulthood silenced through intimidation and abuse, I must heed the call to speak up and let it surpass my urge to stay comfortable and quiet because I think it will keep me “safe.” I must constantly fight the further ingrained notion that others (especially men) know better than me. That I’m not worthy of listening to. Or that I don’t know quite enough yet to open my mouth. This has plagued me for years - despite getting an English degree from America’s top public university, making it through the ringer to become a licensed attorney in one of the most difficult states to pass the bar, ranking obscenely high in verbal ability on an IQ test, doing well at public speaking in some of my jobs, and even breaking into difficult industries and making multiple career changes.

External achievements are no match against a deeply long-held belief that I am only here to serve others, and my life, safety, comfort, and opinions don’t matter. It would follow and haunt me in every job or relationship I had. I truly believe it started with experiencing many “adverse childhood experiences,” specifically being sexually abused by someone in my family who was supposed to take care of me instead of use and abuse me. This, of course, set me up for many years of unconsciously repeating that dynamic in a lot of my other relationships and further cementing this completely false belief as a “truth” for me. I know this is why it is important for me to speak now. It is the antidote to all my internalized shame, hatred and anger. That was someone else’s bullshit, dysfunction and pain put upon me, and I don’t want it anymore. And if anything I say can help someone else stop putting up with it, too, it will all be worth it.

I know I am not fully ready to say or act upon all that I have weighing on my heart and mind yet. Because I am insanely jealous of the output of others who are, I know I will do it, too. I have to make small steps that work for me, be patient, and hold onto my knowing I will get there when it is my time. As Julia Cameron said in the Artist Way, jealousy is a roadmap; to paraphrase in my terms, its purpose is to tell you where you want to go, what you want to do, and who you want to be by making you so fucking mad when you see someone else is doing it and you are not. It’s that simple.

I know why I am a bit hesitant to say what I truly feel, talk about my own experiences, and make myself vulnerable to judgment. It is way easier to read something someone else did and share it with a quick comment on social media as opposed to say and create something from my own heart. There is less of my skin in the game. And the game of speaking out about feminism and sexual abuse and assault? I already know what the rules are. When women publicly speak out about anything related to women’s rights, people (almost all of them men) systematically call them fat and ugly and threaten to rape and kill them. They try to silence them by attacking their womanhood: their looks (what society has deemed a woman’s hottest commodity), their sense of emotional and personal safety (through means of violating the anatomical vulnerability of their genitals in comparison to men’s), their actual lives (murder, duh), and if that isn’t enough, their straight up worthiness of being alive (by making them feel unattractive, unsafe, unloved, unwanted, unintelligent, unworthy and ultimately emotionally annihilated). For a woman not up to withstanding that attack, the threatening perpetrator doesn’t have to actually follow through on his threat; his words and fear they create are enough. Men systemically perpetrating violence against women is alive and well in our culture and we all know it.

Wielding the power to drum up fear of personal attack or violence is the main tool used to control women and it can be incredibly effective against one who has already experienced such awful acts. And words can be just as powerful as actions in affecting someone’s sense of safety. These trolls know that. That’s exactly what Trump did to Rosie O’Donnell when he called her awful names and whatever else he has done to other women who ruffle his delicate feathers. A woman who has experienced that attack and/or violence firsthand has to be able to do a lot of work to come to the other side of it to feel free walking down the street safely, and even more so to be brave enough to talk about such controversial subjects in the public eye. So since I already know what the rules of the game are, I am in the process of deciding how I and when I want to play it, what I need to strengthen, and equipment I need to bring with me to make sure I come out of it victorious and intact.

[shananaomi]

2016.

hi. i haven’t been around these parts much this year, but i couldn’t quite let this one go by. 

here’s last year’s.

[note to self at end of 2017: you deleted anything you didn’t feel up to answering, so maybe go find a complete version if you’re into that sort of thing now.]

What did you do in 2016 that you’d never done before?

Went to Paris, then drove around the French countryside in a tiny car, just as I’d imagined ever since seeing Bon Voyage, Charlie Brown, as a little kid. (Fewer haunted chateaus, more champagne.) Ran a 10k and only truly hated the last mile of it. Watched my wife run a marathon. Finally started reading Harry Potter, but only made it through 2.5 books before it...scared me too much to keep going. 

Did you keep your New Years’ resolutions and will you make more for next year?

Last year: I vowed to prioritize watching more TV shows by and about women, and largely stuck to this and its corollary “no more whiny white guys.”

Also, in answer to the question about what I wish I had done more of in 2015, I said (pre-Hamilton, I should add): I’m sure it means something that every year my answer to this is write. It means I’m never satisfied, right?

Today on Twitter I said: has there ever been a year my resolution was not "write more; complain less"?

Also, per @yayponies, we are going to #GetFitToFightFascism. 

Did anyone close to you give birth?

Several people we love now have more children! And several more are about to.

Did anyone close to you get married?

I...don’t think we went to any weddings this year, or missed any big ones.

Did anyone close to you die?

2016 was definitely the year for crying over people who felt so close it stabbed inside to know they were gone, from Bowie to those killed in Orlando to George Michael.

What countries did you visit?

France! It was beautiful and also intense, like more of a city than even New York but in less space and smaller streets. In many ways the general nervousness and militarization reminded me of New York City post-9/11. 

What would you like to have in 2017 that you lacked in 2016?

A sense of safety, both personal and global.

What was your biggest achievement of the year?

In order to avoid getting a spinal tap or going on a scary-sounding drug to reduce high pressure in my skull, I got a personal trainer, finally stopped eating anything and everything I wanted, and lost 30 pounds. Then I sort of plateaued, or in fitness-speak, maintained that weight successfully for the last 4 months while magically continuing to wear ever-smaller clothes. I’ve set a goal for at least 10 more pounds by the time I turn 40 in April, because that was a random thing I told myself a year ago I could try to do but sounded impossible at the time. 

But I also discovered that I fucking love hiking and even running outside and generally feeling stronger. And before 2016 totally and completely went to shit, I knew looking back that would be my biggest story of the year: I finally put real work into my body, and it was worth it.

What was your biggest failure?

Outside of the never-ending churn of work emails, I have become a terrible, almost entirely absent correspondent. I almost never reply to emails any more, and even text messages often go unanswered. I am so ashamed of this behavior I can barely type it out, honestly, and yet it is somehow the greatest tiny step to take in any free moment I find or set aside for specifically that purpose. 

If I have failed at some point or many to write you back, know it was certainly not because of anything you said, or didn’t.  

Did you suffer illness or injury?

I did something of a mid-year review on my birthday where I wrote about the medical mystery in my brain that dominated the end of 2015 and first half of this year. I’m very lucky; another few rounds of check-ups found my high pressure situation so reduced it was basically now undiagnosable. Also I avoided having a spinal tap, thank fucking god. My great USC Eye Institute doc left for another city but I have a follow-up in January with a guy who basically wrote the book on neuro-ophthalmology so we’ll see whether a true second opinion changes any of that. 

What was the best thing you bought?

It’s not that I don’t like working out with other people. Wait, yes it is. I survived a month of boot camp in 2015 out of sheer stubbornness but hated myself and my body more by the end of it than I’d ever thought possible. But in a one-on-one situation, it turns out I can just channel all that stubborn perfectionism into something meaningful. It was a massive investment, and one I plan to continue in 2017, but there is really no question to me that it was worth it.

Whose behavior merited celebration?

My wife. Did I mention she ran a goddamned marathon? In that and so, so many other ways, she is so much stronger than she thinks or believes and inspires me every day to keep going.

Where did most of your money go?

Trainer, rent, car payment, student loans. Mostly all those old familiar beasts. 

What song will always remind you of 2016?

“Youth,” Troye Sivan. Sitting by a pool in Palm Springs listening to him sing and writing about him and feeling pretty goddamned blessed. 

not a bad view to get serious on a deadline.

Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. happier or sadder? Sadder. There’s just no other way to say that. 

ii. thinner or fatter? Thinner!

iii. richer or poorer? We’re being more careful about money now than we have at times in the past, I’ll put it that way.

What do you wish you’d done more of?

Always: write. But I need to think a little more specifically about what that means for me right now. I run a major media outlet at which I could theoretically write almost anything, but almost never do. Part of what I most miss writing about is queerness and sexuality, but I am not totally sure what, if anything, I want to write for OUT. Should I write fiction? Should I be trying to write and report other, more politically focused pieces (either about entertainment in some way or not)? Should I do something with this TinyLetter I signed up for but have yet to use? Should I write more Tumblr posts? 

Oh yeah, and when am I going to do this? It’s not that I have no time, but I don’t have huge swaths of it either just sitting around waiting to be claimed. I can do this, if I really focus and prioritize. Having some kind of goal type thingie or vision here would obviously go a long way. 

What do you wish you’d done less of?

Crying.

How did you spend Christmas?

Writing George Michael’s obit. 

this is the ridiculous family photo we took on a street near my parents' new house - just before my phone buzzed with the news of George Michael's death. i'm just completely heartbroken. our first conversation, first date, first I love yous - all owe something big to our gay guardian angel, as we always called him. thank you George for being queer and angry and so, so, so beautifully talented. thank you.

What was your favorite TV program?

Save Pitch!

What was the best book you read?

Probably Julia Child’s memoirs, the perfect pre-France guide and also a reminder that a woman can find her way to a whole new life no matter her age. I also adored my old friend Tim Murphy’s novel Christodora. Highly recommended.

What was your greatest musical discovery of 2016?

This should fairly be answered Hamilton, since it took me a while to decide I was ready to jump in even if I wasn’t sure when I’d get to see it. I’m in. All in.

What did you want and get?

To spoil my wife silly on her 40th birthday, including a slightly early trip back to Paris in honor of our first conversation being about her trip there on her 30th. I am traditionally the distant second place present-giver in our relationship, but I think I adequately stepped it up this time.

What did you want and not get?

For our happiness to be as simple as finding the perfect present. A country I felt confident loved us back. My dog to feel as peaceful and calm and quiet as she does when she’s not in Los Angeles. For all the words and thoughts inside my brain to magically appear on a screen or the page without having to find the time or peace to make sense of them.

What was your favorite film of this year?

I did vow to do a better job of seeing films this year, especially big ones that I needed to consider how much work-time to devote coverage to, so maybe that’s why I feel like I have a surprisingly strong, solid list here to choose from. I don’t think I saw Spotlight until 2016, when I watched it back to back on a plane before All the President’s Men. (Don’t yell but: Spotlight was better.) I absolutely loved Arrival and Loving. I don’t plan to give into the weird backlash cynicism about La La Land, which I found delightful if not exactly epic.

Ultimately I think my answer here is that Moonlight and Hell or High Water touched my soul and heart and made me think the most. They are both, in distinctly different ways, about the deep, lasting curse of poverty. In Hell or High Water, Chris Pine’s character eventually offers this terse motivation for a deadly bank robbing spree he has undertaken with his brother: “I’ve been poor my whole life, like a disease passing from generation to generation. But not my boys, not anymore.”

For whatever reason, I’m thinking now about how some people have compared Moonlight to Brokeback Mountain. (I would have compared the latter to Loving, actually, in that they both turn very much on the passionate decisions of reticent white men acting on emotions they cannot figure out how to name.) I guess what people are saying is that Moonlight is also a groundbreaking film about sexuality, but to me what was always missed about Brokeback is that it was a film about a poor man’s sexuality. 

Moonlight very pointedly creates a new possible dialogue to model in conversations about being black and queer - when asked what a faggot is, Chiron is told, “‘Faggot’ is a word used to make gay people feel bad.” And it asks an even harder question: can sexuality and our expression of it ever be separated from the sheer human need to survive other, perhaps unrelated or perhaps more complicated and threatening circumstances of race and class?

I guess I had some things to say about movies this year. 

What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 39, and one of the only long form pieces I wrote this year actually covers that territory too! 

What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Sigh. A Clinton presidency. That’s not one thing, it’s a million, but that’s the goddamned point, isn’t it?

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2016?

Last year I said: I’m damned determined for 2016 to be the year of the lipstick.

And actually I did pretty well on that count. Also I bought some impressively ridiculous over-the-knee boots that I’ve worn almost every day since. 

What kept you sane?

Was I? I still feel pretty unhinged, honestly. My staff and colleagues were actually a consistent source of stability even when there were major changes in that world, too. (Part of CBS basically sold us to a different part of CBS.) 

But each and every day: my wife. This marriage is the best and most important thing I will ever do in my life, and whatever “work” it may be, it pays back in sustaining my existence a hundredfold. Coming soon, allegedly: a podcast and/or Insta live series with me and @yayponies called Marriage Is Hard. (No it’s not.)

Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Oh hey, I finally got to introduce my wife to Chris Pine when we bumped into him at the reception after the Loving premiere/screening. (Sorry-not-sorry for the utter LAness of that sentence.) I kind of hate reintroducing myself to people I interviewed years before, but in this case: worth every moment of internal awkwardness. He has very strong feelings about cinematography, you guys. And projectionists. And cheesy grits.

What political issue stirred you the most?

I am sickened by the fact that young trans and gender-nonconforming folks are bearing the brunt of the right-wing’s latest scare and hate tactics. I am not scared for my marriage headed into a new administration; I am terrified for their lives. 

Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

America. All of us.

Who did you miss?

I miss...people. I miss Sunday potluck dinners like Ray and I threw in college, the kind that were just about people having a safe space but then really about organizing, but I’m still not sure how to create those in our lives right now in a way that doesn’t create more anxiety for us than it relieves. I’m putting this here in hopes some other folks might have an idea. Maybe I’ll even be bold enough to put it in its own post. 

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2016.

"I’VE BEEN PLANNING WHILE YOU’RE PLAYING.” -- Jenny Holzer

We saw this at the Broad. Jessica did a better job of writing about it.

Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

Raise a glass to freedom Something they can never take away No matter what they tell you Raise a glass to the four of us Tomorrow there’ll be more of us

What is one photo that represents a moment you want to remember?

Here we are on an impossibly beautiful day in Paris after one of the best meals of my life, grinning like fools and taking photos that don’t even look real. 

even as we were taking this photo I knew it would look super fake. but it's not! I mean that palm tree was definitely brought in special but it was there when we went to pick up our bibs. oh yeah, we're running a 6k-but-probably-more-like-8k through the streets of Paris tomorrow along with about 35,000 other women. (and by running I mean trying not to fall too far behind the pack.) #laparisienne

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Looking Forward // March 2017

Looking Forward is a feature where I get to take a look at the books I am most excited to be released each month. The books I cannot wait to start reading and want to remind you all about being released. It’s really a kind of torture because I am meant to be employing a spending ban and I can’t quite help but sneak a book into my basket when I do this post because I forger how many good books get released each month! This month’s collection is very YA heavy (when is it not?) and features a couple of my most anticipated reads.

The Song Rising (The Bone Season #3) – Samantha Shannon

Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult

Release Date: 7th March 2017

You’re Welcome, Universe – Whitney Gardner

Genre: Contemporary, Young Adult

Release Date: 7th March 2017

Following a bloody battle against foes on every side, Paige Mahoney has risen to the dangerous position of Underqueen, ruling over London's criminal population.

But, having turned her back on Jaxon Hall and with vengeful enemies still at large, the task of stabilizing the fractured underworld has never seemed so challenging.

Little does Paige know that her reign may be cut short by the introduction of Senshield, a deadly technology that spells doom for the clairvoyant community and the world as they know it . . .

A vibrant, edgy, fresh new YA voice for fans of More Happy Than Not and Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, packed with interior graffiti.

When Julia finds a slur about her best friend scrawled across the back of the Kingston School for the Deaf, she covers it up with a beautiful (albeit illegal) graffiti mural.

Her supposed best friend snitches, the principal expels her, and her two mothers set Julia up with a one-way ticket to a “mainstream” school in the suburbs, where she’s treated like an outcast as the only deaf student. The last thing she has left is her art, and not even Banksy himself could convince her to give that up.

Out in the ’burbs, Julia paints anywhere she can, eager to claim some turf of her own. But Julia soon learns that she might not be the only vandal in town. Someone is adding to her tags, making them better, showing off—and showing Julia up in the process. She expected her art might get painted over by cops. But she never imagined getting dragged into a full-blown graffiti war.

Told with wit and grit by debut author Whitney Gardner, who also provides gorgeous interior illustrations of Julia’s graffiti tags, You’re Welcome, Universe introduces audiences to a one-of-a-kind protagonist who is unabashedly herself no matter what life throws in her way.

Why Am I Excited?

I have been excited about this book since finishing The Mime Order when that was released. I mean, I have been excited about reading this series ever since I read The Bone Season. It’s just a really interesting fantasy series and one which I can see getting better and better with each book. I remember rolling my eyes at the 7 book series when it first was released but was intrigued like all the rest and I have to say I don’t regret buying that first book in the slightest, even if I am being forced to buy the special edition covers so my book collection will match.

Why Am I Excited?

I had never heard of this author or this book until there was a post at New Year on Pop Goes The Reader by Whitney Gardner and the artwork and the story was just perfect and I knew I wanted to read whatever she had written so hearing that she had this book coming out I knew I needed to get my hands on it. It was nothing to do with the fact it ticks all the diversity boxes (it does and I love that) but it was simply the fact that the author had such a unique voice and I wanted more so the fact she also writes books which are diverse and interesting is just a plus for me.

The Bone Witch – Rin Chupeco

Genre: Fantasy, Paranormal, Young Adult

Release Date: 7th March 2017

Queen of the Geeks – Jen Wilde

Genre: Young Adult, Contemporary

Release Date: 14th March 2017

The beast raged; it punctured the air with its spite. But the girl was fiercer.

Tea is different from the other witches in her family. Her gift for necromancy makes her a bone witch, who are feared and ostracized in the kingdom. For theirs is a powerful, elemental magic that can reach beyond the boundaries of the living—and of the human.

Great power comes at a price, forcing Tea to leave her homeland to train under the guidance of an older, wiser bone witch. There, Tea puts all of her energy into becoming an asha, learning to control her elemental magic and those beasts who will submit by no other force. And Tea must be strong—stronger than she even believes possible. Because war is brewing in the eight kingdoms, war that will threaten the sovereignty of her homeland…and threaten the very survival of those she loves.

When BFFs Charlie, Taylor and Jamie go to SupaCon, they know it’s going to be a blast. What they don’t expect is for it to change their lives forever.

Charlie likes to stand out. SupaCon is her chance to show fans she’s over her public breakup with co-star, Jason Ryan. When Alyssa Huntington arrives as a surprise guest, it seems Charlie’s long-time crush on her isn’t as one-sided as she thought.

While Charlie dodges questions about her personal life, Taylor starts asking questions about her own.

Taylor likes to blend in. Her brain is wired differently, making her fear change. And there’s one thing in her life she knows will never change: her friendship with Jamie—no matter how much she may secretly want it to. But when she hears about the Queen Firestone SupaFan Contest, she starts to rethink her rules on playing it safe.

Why Am I Excited?

I’m pretty sure I saw the cover and then the word witches in the summary and decided it was a must read for me. Thankfully, when I went back and read the summary in full I knew it sounded like a good book, but the cover was mostly to blame.

Why Am I Excited?

It’s another case of the cover getting me first, I mean pink hair! It’s little things like that which get me. The book itself totally feeds into the fangirl in me though, it’s another book set at a convention (I need to read Unconventional!) and it just makes me want to read. I’ve not heard much about it yet but I hope to read it at some point this year.

Madly (New York #2) – Ruthie Knox

Genre: Romance, Contemporary

Release Date: 14th March 2017

Strange the Dreamer (Strange the Dreamer #1) – Laini Taylor

Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult

Release Date: 28th March 2017

An impulsive trip to New York City, a heartthrob from London, and a scandalous to-do list turn a small-town girl’s life upside down in this sultry romance from the New York Times bestselling author of Truly and About Last Night.

Allie Fredericks isn’t supposed to be in Manhattan, hiding in the darkest corner of a hip bar, spying on her own mother—who’s flirting with a man who’s definitely not Allie’s father. Allie’s supposed to be in Wisconsin, planning her parents’ milestone anniversary party. Then Winston Chamberlain walks through the door, with his tailored suit, British accent, and gorgeous eyes, and Allie’s strange mission goes truly sideways.

Winston doesn’t do messy. But after a pretty stranger ropes him into her ridiculous family drama with a fake kiss that gets a little too real, he finds out that messy can be fun. Maybe even a little addicting. And as the night grows longer, Allie and Winston make a list of other wild things they could do together—and what seems like a mismatch leads to a genuine connection. But can their relationship survive as their real lives implode just outside the bedroom door?

A new epic fantasy by National Book Award finalist and New York Times bestselling author Laini Taylor of the Daughter of Smoke & Bone trilogy.

The dream chooses the dreamer, not the other way around— and Lazlo Strange, war orphan and junior librarian, has always feared that his dream chose poorly. Since he was five years old he's been obsessed with the mythic lost city of Weep, but it would take someone bolder than he to cross half the world in search of it. Then a stunning opportunity presents itself, in the person of a hero called the Godslayer and a band of legendary warriors, and he has to seize his chance to lose his dream forever.

What happened in Weep two hundred years ago to cut it off from the rest of the world? What exactly did the Godslayer slay that went by the name of god? And what is the mysterious problem he now seeks help in solving?

The answers await in Weep, but so do more mysteries—including the blue-skinned goddess who appears in Lazlo's dreams. How did he dream her before he knew she existed? and if all the gods are dead, why does she seem so real?

In this sweeping and breathtaking new novel by National Book Award finalist Laini Taylor, author of the New York Times bestselling Daughter of Smoke & Bone trilogy, the shadow of the past is as real as the ghosts who haunt the citadel of murdered gods. Fall into a mythical world of dread and wonder, moths and nightmares, love and carnage. Welcome to Weep.

Why Am I Excited?

I wanted to read this because of Nick (like so many of my books) but I wanted to read even more after I bought Truly after realising this wasn’t out yet! Truly was a fantastic romance read. It was perfect for me at the moment of reading and is a book I could see myself reading again. I really liked the characters and the story and the setting and so I’m thrilled to read about another of the characters in this book. I have pre-ordered and I will hopefully read not long after it’s release.

Why Am I Excited?

I was a massive fan of Taylor’s Daughter of Smoke and Bone series (why have I not reread that lately?) and have been waiting something new from her for so long. It may be one of my most anticipated reads of the year and so I cannot wait for it to be out at the end of the month. I have my copy pre-ordered I will happily take the day off of work to read this. I need it in my life ASAP.

We all have books we look forward to, what are your most anticipated reads of March? Are there any I’m missing or have you been lucky enough to read any of these already and want to convince me to buy?

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'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/i-completely-lost-it-the-movie-scenes-that-made-our-writers-weep-2/

'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

From Toy Story 2 to Under the Skin, writers pick the cinematic moments that made them cry and explain why. Spoilers ahead

Aunt Lucys trip, Paddington 2

On the face of it, Paddington is a fairly broad kids film franchise about the hijinks of a CGI bear, and so probably shouldnt make a grown human cry hot, salty tears. But that description ignores the fact that Paddington is a really, really well-made kids film franchise about the hijinks of a CGI bear, one that completely gets the pathos of its central character, a little lost immigrant searching for something resembling a family. Both films ably tug at the heartstrings, but the second film got me sniffling as early as 15 minutes in when Paddington imagines giving his only living relative, Aunt Lucy, a tour around London, something that in reality is impossible as shes stuck thousands of miles away in darkest Peru. When at the end of the film spoiler alert Aunt Lucy arrives on the Brown familys doorstep and she and Paddington hug, I completely, unapologetically lost it. Lord knows what surprises Paddington 3 has planned for my tear ducts. GM

When She Loved Me, Toy Story 2

Just before writing this, I put When She Loved Me from Toy Story 2 on YouTube once again, just to check. Yep. Just as always, I choke up, in the same abject, lip-wobbling, head-bowed way. It still has that terrible power.

When She Loved Me is the song written by Randy Newman and sung by the devastated toy cowgirl Jessie and in fact performed, beautifully, on the soundtrack by Canadian singer Sarah McLachlan. The song is Jessies way of telling Woody why she has grimly decided to submit to the airless world of the toy museum, because it is better than the inevitable heartbreak and delusion of loving a fickle human child. She reveals her anguish that her owner, Emily, has fallen out of love with her outgrown her, in fact. As Emily entered the world of adolescence, pop music and boys, Jessie was left under the bed and finally dumped.

When I first saw this scene and misled by the size disparity between toy and owner I thought it was a parable for a childs anxiety over being abandoned by the parent. But now that I am a parent I can see the truth which is completely the opposite way around. It is about the parents fear of being abandoned by the child: the terrible fear, actually the terrible certainty, that the kid one day wont want to play with you. They will grow up and want something else. This song is utterly devastating. It is modern cinemas equivalent of the Vesti La Giubba aria from Pagliacci the tragic clown smiling on the outside but crying on the inside. Im afraid to watch it too often. I dont want to break down over and over again. But I also want to preserve its power over me. PB

Ruths death, Fried Green Tomatoes

In many respects, Fried Green Tomatoes is not a movie for the modern age. It is a story about racism in the deep south told largely by way of eliciting our sympathies for wealthy white characters; it is a story about a lesbian relationship that had to slide its lesbian relationship in unnoticed, by presenting it as a very close friendship fulfilled by food fights, poker games and heads leaning meaningfully on shoulders. But I am deeply fond of this 1991 Sunday afternoon classic. Ive seen it more times than is healthy, and so I know exactly what is coming and when, and yet am still unable to resist the inevitable guttural sobbing that comes with the death scene.

There are plenty of teasers for it, too: Buddy on the train tracks, even Mrs Threadgoode talking about the death of her adult son. Nothing, however, can prepare the viewer for Ruth asking Idgie to tell her the old story about the frozen lake thats now somewhere over in Georgia. It doesnt so much pull on heartstrings as play a full symphony on them, and its devastating. As Sipsey puts it, a lady always knows when to leave. RN

The rooftop dance, Eat Pray Love

While I was repelled by the mere existence of the Eat Pray Love book, I found something strangely charming about its big-screen translation. It was a mixture of glossy food porn, glossy travel porn and glossy Julia Roberts emoting porn (she remains one of the best fake criers in Hollywood) all wrapped up in a rather unique tale of a woman trying to unshackle herself from the men in her life. But while that all provided mostly surface-level enjoyment, one scene cut deeper and the extent to which it cuts surprises me still.

As is often with the case with movie tears, these were tied to a real-world experience that had happened not long before I sat down to watch. I was dumped by a long-term boyfriend without much of an explanation and without any sort of warning. I was heartbroken and seeking some form of closure that was kept cruelly out of reach. I didnt understand why it had happened and it was the not knowing that felt harder than the break-up itself.

In the film, Roberts character has left her flighty husband and remains haunted by the heartbreak shes caused. On a rooftop in Delhi, a vision of him appears and they dance to Neil Youngs heart-grabbing Harvest Moon, the song that was supposed to accompany their first wedding dance. She reminds him that she did love him. He tells her he still loves and misses her. They cry and continue to dance. At the end, she tells him that it wont last forever, nothing does. Its a short scene but it hit me like a bus, it still does now. My tears are for the film but theyre also for something deeper: the sting of loving someone who stopped loving me and the ache of an ending I was never allowed in real life. BL

The thunderstorm, Click

Adam Sandler can make me cry harder than hes ever made me laugh, the true test of a clown. Yes, even in the underappreciated comedy Click about a dad who finds a magical remote control in the Beyond section of Bed Bath & Beyond.

Sandlers workaholic architect fast-forwards through the worst parts of his day the dull weeknight frozen dinners with his family, the repetitive arguments, the gross times everyone gets knocked out by the flu in order to get to his next promotion so he can buy his kids whatever they want. His plan doesnt go well, of course. But whats shocking is how gut-rippingly painful it is to see Sandler hit play on his life only to realize hes skipped past everything that matters. His bodys been present, the bills have been paid, but his emotional engagements been staticky a trade-off too many of us can understand.

In the climax, old man Sandler sobs in a thunderstorm as he arrives at his daughters wedding only to learn shed rather her stepdad walk her down the aisle, and his son has grown up to mimic his job-first, family-second example. I rarely cry at unavoidable tragedies where no ones at fault. My weakness is characters regretting choices they cant rewind. Click isnt Ingmar Bergman Sandler gets a happy ending but I barely saw his relief through the rainstorm on my face. AN

The courtroom, Kramer vs Kramer

By all accounts, Robert Bentons film Kramer vs Kramer skews heavily toward Dustin Hoffmans Ted, whose wife Joanna has left him and their six-year-old son Billy. Billy and Ted make french toast together, or argue about eating ice cream before dinner, or visit the nearby jungle gym. Were it not for Meryl Streep and the trenchant, intuitive way she humanizes a woman who, in the 70s, would have otherwise been made to seem mawkish and unstable Kramer vs Kramer might be just a schmaltzy panegyric on fatherhood.

But leave it to our greatest living actor to turn a film on its head with a single scene. You know the one: Joanna, during the custody hearing, is subjected to a string of sexist questions about her failure as a wife and a mother. When asked why shes seeking custody of Billy, she blinks three times, beginning the monologue Streep herself wrote in an effort to redeem her character, who she initially perceived to be an ogre, a princess, an ass.

Billys only seven years old. He needs me, she says, reciting the word need with a whispery uptick as she glances at her ex. Im not saying he doesnt need his father. But I really believe he needs me more. After catching her breath, she becomes more emphatic: I was his mommy for five and a half years. Since I was about Billys age when my parents got divorced, ergo, too young to understand or even care, Ive always been astonished and, by proxy, moved by how compassionately Streep plumbs the depths of Joannas truth. JN

The beach, Under the Skin

Little focuses the mind more effectively on human distress than the arrival of your own kids; scenes in films which I might once have snoozed through now induce boggle-eyed terror OH MY GOD, DONT LEAVE THAT BABY NEAR THAT COFFEE TABLE, IT HASNT GOT A CORNER PROTECTOR! But nothing has topped at least, not yet the scene in Under the Skin where Scarlett Johansson murders a swimmer and drags him off to eat him.

Its not the murder thats so epically upsetting, though its gruesome enough: Johansson, playing an alien visitor permanently on the lookout for human nutrients, simply bangs him over the head with a large stone as he lies prone and exhausted on the beach. Its what goes on in the background that is so awful. A woman goes into the water to try and rescue her drowning dog, and her male partner instinctively rushes in after her, leaving their toddler alone high on the shore. Johanssons chum the only other adult on this lonely Scottish beach goes to help too.

With the speed of falling dominoes, a nice little day out unravels: the mother and father are swept away to who knows where, and the alien takes her chance to acquire their would-be rescuer as a food source. Meanwhile, the suddenly abandoned kid is shrieking in terror as the night closes in. Another, less astute film-maker, might cap the scene with the alien scooping the kid up and adding him to her dinner menu, but what Glazer contrives is absolutely horrifying. Johansson-alien simply ignores it, and leaves it alone. The film moves on, this incident consigned to the past.

I have to confess I was absolutely blindsided by the scene; mostly, I think, because of the its sheer unexpectedness. I think I was gripped by a kind of internal hysteria: shock, hyperventilation, a feeling the back of my head might explode. (I cant say I actually cried though I may have, but in the confusion I cant really remember.) I certainly had to hold on to the seat to stop myself bolting out of the cinema then and there. I am aware theres a some degree of self-indulgence here: the fact that my daughter was about the same age as the kid in the film undoubtedly super-sensitised my reactions. But everyone has their weak spot; this is very much mine. AP

The birth, Cheaper by the Dozen 2

Cheaper by the Dozen 2, if you havent seen it you probably havent, why would you have? is the sequel to the remake of family comedy Cheaper by the Dozen, and Im sure it was made because Steve Martin, the star of the franchise, needed to pay his mortgage. The main gist of the movie is that Martin and his wife, played by Bonnie Hunt, have 12 children who get into various japes. Its asinine. But during a time in my life when I was making a lot of transatlantic flights, Cheaper By the Dozen 2 was always an option on the British Airways seatback televisions, and one day I found, because of the frequency of my flights, I had watched all of the other films.

What choice did I have? At the climactic scene, where the oldest daughter, played by Piper Perabo, gives birth, and then names the baby after her father because he has shown her that there is no way to be a perfect parent, but a million ways to be a really good one, I cried so much the man sitting next to me regarded me with what appeared to be real concern. There may have not been enough cocktail napkins on the whole plane to dry my tears. Was it the recycled air? Was it the two miniature bottles of white wine? Or was it that a joyful childbirth scene can warm the cockles of even the coldest of hearts? JHE

The accidental reunion, Manchester by the Sea

Weve got a real talent for repression back in Massachusetts. Kenneth Lonergans searing Manchester by the Sea plays out a 15-minute drive from my childhood home and, true to life, the characters all struggle to articulate the perfect storms of emotion raging within them.

When Lee (Casey Affleck) has a chance encounter with his ex-wife Randi (Michelle Williams), the shared history between them is literally unspeakable. They sputter out fragments of sentences that act as a shorthand for vast reservoirs of guilt and self-loathing they cant bear to express, and because they know one another so intimately, they can intuit all the meaning they have to. Theyve both shoved a lot deep down inside just so they can look at themselves in the mirror, and when in the presence of the only other person on the planet who understands what theyve been through, some of it has to come out. Randi does most of the talking, inviting Lee to lunch so they can get some closure, and he ends the conversation by walking away. Shes ready to face her past and be fully present in the new life shes built for herself. Lee, a North Shore boy born and bred, feels more comfortable starting a bar fight as his form of therapy. CB

The hotel, Unrelated

Joanna Hoggs first film, Unrelated, has had something of a second life on account of being the debut of Tom Hiddleston, and set during a Tuscan summer, which means swimming pool, which means toplessness, and lots of it. Its nice to imagine the Loki-lovers streaming this masterpiece of English upper-middle-class excruciation. As its ending shows, specificity is no barrier to emotional oomph.

The story sees a woman in her early 40s, Anna (Kathryn Worth), holidaying with old friends and their teenage children. She finds she prefers the company of the kids, especially the charming Oakley (Hiddleston, then 26, playing eight years younger). The holiday implodes. Anna goes to stay at a grim airport hotel. Her friend visits, crossly wanting to know whats behind her behaviour. Anna explains that, quite recently, she thought she was pregnant but no, in fact, it was an early menopause. Shell never be able to have children. She sobs and bends double on the bed. It is shot in one take, from the middle distance, acted with a banal frankness which feels like eavesdropping.

When I saw it a decade back, it floored me: a twist I hadnt foreseen, a pain I could only imagine. A few years ago, I began consciously avoiding the film, fearful a similar fate awaited me. Now I can safely watch it again or, I thought I could, but Hogg is much too superb and mysterious a film-maker for that. It isnt simply the information which is terrible, it is the dreadful catharsis of its expression, coming after so much obfuscation. The stifle has gone; instead there is the most awful sadness. Buttoning up is often the bravest way. CS

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

[trevorbailey61]

Moseley Folk Festival

Moseley Park, Birmingham

Friday 1st September 2017

There are few things that can engage me quite like making a list. I should perhaps qualify that by saying that the lists I compile serve no practical purpose whatsoever; at the supermarket I am a hunter gatherer, prowling the aisles until I catch a sighting of my prey with nothing as organised as a list to influence what ends up in the trolley. Whereas my wife will have sorted out what she needs for a holiday at least a week in advance, my packing consists of randomly throwing things into the bag just before we leave resulting in an abundance of old concert t-shirts but no toothbrush. No, the lists I carry around are on much more important matters, my top 5 Bowie albums, top Scorsese movies, top varieties of apple, top underground stations,… you get the drift. My interaction with Facebook rarely goes beyond wishing friends a happy birthday but when a list is required, then it will usually be in the process of being formed before I have finished reading the status. That is not to say it is easy; making “Low” a better album than “Hunky Dory” or “Good Fellas” a better film than “Raging Bull” is not a decision that can be made lightly and much soul searching is required before a commitment can be made. Buying a car takes less time than deciding that an Egremont Russet tastes a little better than a Worcester Pearman.

It was at university that being able to put things in order was most importance. I still remember the incredulity that greeted my suggestion that “Stranded” was almost as good a Roxy Music album as “For Your Pleasure” and probably better than the debut. My companions stared at me open mouthed, how could anyone think that what followed challenged the dominance of the Eno influenced start to their career; I was immediately ostracised until I had listened to “2HB” enough times to realise the error I had committed. About the same time, the student newspaper, “Bias" invited readers to select their favourite songs and inevitably the challenge was immediately accepted. In the end nothing was to come of this; either the number of students willing to spend hours compiling this list was very small, maybe even as limited as one, or the huge variety of responses made it difficult to draw any conclusions. Songs were added, crossed out, some discarded altogether, some to reappear later but eventually the list was completed and has been carried around in my head ever since. Thinking about it now, what strikes me is just how sad most of these songs are, “I Heard It Through the Grapevine”, “Tears of a Clown”, “Love Will Tear Us Apart”, “Ticket to Ride”, all songs that deal with the fragility of relationships, particularly those that are formed during adolescence. From the time that people started putting their feelings to music there have been break-up songs but as a distinctive youth culture emerged in the post-war era, so did the variety of ways in which the mourning of the end of a relationship could be expressed. The emotions are so much more intense when they are experienced for the first time, the thrill of first love and the wreckage when it breaks down adding beauty to the sadness. Everyone has experienced the pain of separation, the heartbreak of finding out that the intensity of your feelings are not reciprocated with music reflecting and shaping this emotional turmoil. With young people having greater access to music than ever before, the quickest way to their heart was by reminding them of what it was to feel like like to break it.

Songs have the power to tear us apart and put us back together again within the space of about two minutes, simultaneously making us weep and smile. Folk music carries more than its share of pain so a festival would appear to provide of plenty emotional disintegration and with a collective known as Cultural Dub Orchestra already on the stage when I arrive, this pain is brought into focus. A quartet, their songs use folk instrumentation, guitar and bass, along with Indian percussion to create a background for a melody of eastern intervals played on the violin. Introducing one of their instrumentals, the bass player informs us that its haunting melody was inspired by the end of a relationship, in this case with the violinist; their musical bond, apparently strong enough to withstand even their personal break up. For John Moreland, the pain is in loneliness; the line “I thought I was somebody nobody could love” from the song “On Julia” captures this painful self loathing. It seems a bit lazy to describe someone of Moreland’s physique as a “bear of a man” but it is also difficult to think of anything more apt. He is formidable, his size complemented by a huge beard and tattoos that mark the contours of his arms. Across his knuckles, the letters Oklahoma spell out the name of his home state, along the freeways of which he should be tearing along on his hog. He says little and his deep gravelly voice fits his appearance but the words to his songs show the sensitivity and insecurity behind this rampant display of masculinity.

More Americana follows in the form of Courtney Marie Andrews. Despite her elfin looks and tender years, she is 26 but looks younger, she has already spent over a decade on the road, both as a solo artist and as lead guitarist for Damien Jurado. Her sixth album, “Honest Life” was released earlier this year and this, together with the short European tour that brings her to Moseley, is starting to introduce her the wider audience her work deserves. Her clear voice caresses every word, adding the country inflexions that mean comparisons with Emmylou Harris do not flatter her. In keeping with her delivery, her songs tell stories of the everyday lives of those down on their luck and are full of longing and regret. The hollow emptiness of the first song, “How Quickly a Heart Mends”, is typical,“The jukebox is playin’ a sad country song; For all the ugly Americans; Now I feel like one of them.” whilst also hinting that redemption is offered through change. Ryan Adams has described Andrews as a “phenomenal songwriter” and this brilliant set, which also included a new song; “Long Road Back to You”, shows that she is also a compelling live performer. Two incredible acts already, and it is still only mid afternoon.

With Andrews still on the stage packing up her guitar, the man standing next to me turns to his companion and mutters, “it’s downhill from now on”. With a scowl on his face, he strides past the Lunar stage where John J Presley, don’t call him Elvis, he hates it, is starting his set. His deep hoarse voice and sparse thumping accompaniment was perfect for his remorse filled bluesy songs. It does, however, give a possible explanation for the flounce that had just occurred next to me. Moseley has a record of booking good American acts and with these occurring so early in the day, the rest of the evening starts to look very parochial. This Sceptred Isle, however, has its own stories to tell and in Seth Lakemen there is someone to tell them. Rather than painful introspection, the themes Lakeman explores are bigger. Driven along by a ferocious beat and accompanied by his fiery violin,  “The Hurlers” sets this out: “Come on make your choice; Where you stand”; the mixture of traditional folk songs and Lakeman’s own focus on the dehumanising exploitation of workers by the oppressive forces that control them. “The Colliers” is a harrowing account of the death of 140 miners resulting from negligence and a criminal disregard for the safety of those working underground. Lakeman largely ignores the ballads of his most recent album to present a lively set with the showmanship of the performance offering a stark contrast to the bleak themes he explores.

After sparse beauty of break-up songs Kiwi style with Nadia Reid, whose pain is particularly raw even compared to what we have already heard, the light pop of The Magic Numbers offered the promise of some relief. Starting with their best know song, “Love’s A Game”, everything is as it should be but as they move on to their new material, that they are using this slot as an opportunity to work through, the bright hooks are replaced by a dull loud grunge. There is no doubting the intensity they commit to this but as they finish with the easy charm of “Love Me Like You” you can’t help but feel that something has been lost. If hummable melodies and bright arrangements caused the moans earlier, then I’m guessing the man has not been looking forward to the headline. Amy Macdonald may not seem an obvious choice for a folk festival but for the organisers, her popularity brought in plenty of fans, many of whom were crowding around the stage long before her appearance. These fans seem to fit into two main groups; on the one hand girls in their early twenties are here to relive the music of their adolescence, for the group next to me made up for a night out and wearing smart leather jackets, this appeared to be their first experience of a festival and I wondered whether they had been there long enough to have the life changing experience of visiting the toilets. In introducing her, Janice Long mentions that she was one of the few acts that she worked with that her mother showed an interest in, drawn in by her voice. It is impossible to discuss Macdonald without commenting on her voice; clear and powerful, it accounts for her popularity amongst an older audience who wait alongside the younger fans.

Macdonald turned thirty about a week before the festival and this may, in part, explain her decision to perform here. In between songs, she often notes how the sparse arrangements and pared back show provide a change from the concert halls in which she normally performs. She is also at pains to remind us that with over 12 million sales of her work, she is enormously popular, betraying at a little insecurity through being well out of her comfort zone. This is, however, exactly what she wanted; she has been recording and performing music since she was a teenager and as an adult has known nothing else. With a potential career lasting many decades ahead of her, however, she could well be looking for a direction that involves more than just repeating the innocent songs she wrote in her youth and which may not mean that much to her now. This could well signify a change of direction that will help to shape her music in the years to come. She mostly pulls it off, the band create some wonderfully atmospheric textures for the songs to which Macdonald herself occasionally adds a second guitar and despite the absence of any percussion, many of the songs are driven by a lively rhythm, particularly the wonderfully exuberant “Dream On”. Her voice is strong, clear and shows the power she is renowned for although at times it does feel a little too strident above the sparse arrangements. Generally she gets away with this; many of her songs could be described as power ballads which often show a tendency to resort to motivational cliches; “Don't worry ‘bout the little things; Keep fighting; Keep trying” as she sings in the opener, “Under Stars”. Here her voice works perfectly but if she looking for that change in direction, you can’t help but feel that both her writing and singing need to become a little more nuanced. As an encore she does a beautiful cover of Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark” that shows both the restraint and subtlety that she will need, the challenge will be to apply this to her own material.

It has been a glorious day but with the sun having long since departed and a cloudless sky above us, I am suddenly aware of how cold it has become; the shorts that earlier had seemed ideal now leaving the bottom of my legs exposed so it is a while before I am fully aware of what my feet are doing. The stumbling way in which I weave my way towards the exit draws disapproving looks from others no doubt feeling that at my age I should know my limits. A beautiful day of mostly sad songs then but we have always known that sad songs can also be so uplifting. This gives me such a warm glow that I manage to deal with the lad in a VW who cuts across the front of me at the roundabout at Halesowen without calling him a twat. By then, however, the list is being compiled, the acts are being put into rank order, the highlights confirmed. I may agree with my grumpy friend that these came early but that is not to say that the rest of the day was not thoroughly enjoyable. A great start to this great festival.

[writingguide003-blog]

'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/i-completely-lost-it-the-movie-scenes-that-made-our-writers-weep/

'I completely lost it': the movie scenes that made our writers weep

From Toy Story 2 to Under the Skin, writers pick the cinematic moments that made them cry and explain why. Spoilers ahead

Aunt Lucys trip, Paddington 2

On the face of it, Paddington is a fairly broad kids film franchise about the hijinks of a CGI bear, and so probably shouldnt make a grown human cry hot, salty tears. But that description ignores the fact that Paddington is a really, really well-made kids film franchise about the hijinks of a CGI bear, one that completely gets the pathos of its central character, a little lost immigrant searching for something resembling a family. Both films ably tug at the heartstrings, but the second film got me sniffling as early as 15 minutes in when Paddington imagines giving his only living relative, Aunt Lucy, a tour around London, something that in reality is impossible as shes stuck thousands of miles away in darkest Peru. When at the end of the film spoiler alert Aunt Lucy arrives on the Brown familys doorstep and she and Paddington hug, I completely, unapologetically lost it. Lord knows what surprises Paddington 3 has planned for my tear ducts. GM

When She Loved Me, Toy Story 2

Just before writing this, I put When She Loved Me from Toy Story 2 on YouTube once again, just to check. Yep. Just as always, I choke up, in the same abject, lip-wobbling, head-bowed way. It still has that terrible power.

When She Loved Me is the song written by Randy Newman and sung by the devastated toy cowgirl Jessie and in fact performed, beautifully, on the soundtrack by Canadian singer Sarah McLachlan. The song is Jessies way of telling Woody why she has grimly decided to submit to the airless world of the toy museum, because it is better than the inevitable heartbreak and delusion of loving a fickle human child. She reveals her anguish that her owner, Emily, has fallen out of love with her outgrown her, in fact. As Emily entered the world of adolescence, pop music and boys, Jessie was left under the bed and finally dumped.

When I first saw this scene and misled by the size disparity between toy and owner I thought it was a parable for a childs anxiety over being abandoned by the parent. But now that I am a parent I can see the truth which is completely the opposite way around. It is about the parents fear of being abandoned by the child: the terrible fear, actually the terrible certainty, that the kid one day wont want to play with you. They will grow up and want something else. This song is utterly devastating. It is modern cinemas equivalent of the Vesti La Giubba aria from Pagliacci the tragic clown smiling on the outside but crying on the inside. Im afraid to watch it too often. I dont want to break down over and over again. But I also want to preserve its power over me. PB

Ruths death, Fried Green Tomatoes

In many respects, Fried Green Tomatoes is not a movie for the modern age. It is a story about racism in the deep south told largely by way of eliciting our sympathies for wealthy white characters; it is a story about a lesbian relationship that had to slide its lesbian relationship in unnoticed, by presenting it as a very close friendship fulfilled by food fights, poker games and heads leaning meaningfully on shoulders. But I am deeply fond of this 1991 Sunday afternoon classic. Ive seen it more times than is healthy, and so I know exactly what is coming and when, and yet am still unable to resist the inevitable guttural sobbing that comes with the death scene.

There are plenty of teasers for it, too: Buddy on the train tracks, even Mrs Threadgoode talking about the death of her adult son. Nothing, however, can prepare the viewer for Ruth asking Idgie to tell her the old story about the frozen lake thats now somewhere over in Georgia. It doesnt so much pull on heartstrings as play a full symphony on them, and its devastating. As Sipsey puts it, a lady always knows when to leave. RN

The rooftop dance, Eat Pray Love

While I was repelled by the mere existence of the Eat Pray Love book, I found something strangely charming about its big-screen translation. It was a mixture of glossy food porn, glossy travel porn and glossy Julia Roberts emoting porn (she remains one of the best fake criers in Hollywood) all wrapped up in a rather unique tale of a woman trying to unshackle herself from the men in her life. But while that all provided mostly surface-level enjoyment, one scene cut deeper and the extent to which it cuts surprises me still.

As is often with the case with movie tears, these were tied to a real-world experience that had happened not long before I sat down to watch. I was dumped by a long-term boyfriend without much of an explanation and without any sort of warning. I was heartbroken and seeking some form of closure that was kept cruelly out of reach. I didnt understand why it had happened and it was the not knowing that felt harder than the break-up itself.

In the film, Roberts character has left her flighty husband and remains haunted by the heartbreak shes caused. On a rooftop in Delhi, a vision of him appears and they dance to Neil Youngs heart-grabbing Harvest Moon, the song that was supposed to accompany their first wedding dance. She reminds him that she did love him. He tells her he still loves and misses her. They cry and continue to dance. At the end, she tells him that it wont last forever, nothing does. Its a short scene but it hit me like a bus, it still does now. My tears are for the film but theyre also for something deeper: the sting of loving someone who stopped loving me and the ache of an ending I was never allowed in real life. BL

The thunderstorm, Click

Adam Sandler can make me cry harder than hes ever made me laugh, the true test of a clown. Yes, even in the underappreciated comedy Click about a dad who finds a magical remote control in the Beyond section of Bed Bath & Beyond.

Sandlers workaholic architect fast-forwards through the worst parts of his day the dull weeknight frozen dinners with his family, the repetitive arguments, the gross times everyone gets knocked out by the flu in order to get to his next promotion so he can buy his kids whatever they want. His plan doesnt go well, of course. But whats shocking is how gut-rippingly painful it is to see Sandler hit play on his life only to realize hes skipped past everything that matters. His bodys been present, the bills have been paid, but his emotional engagements been staticky a trade-off too many of us can understand.

In the climax, old man Sandler sobs in a thunderstorm as he arrives at his daughters wedding only to learn shed rather her stepdad walk her down the aisle, and his son has grown up to mimic his job-first, family-second example. I rarely cry at unavoidable tragedies where no ones at fault. My weakness is characters regretting choices they cant rewind. Click isnt Ingmar Bergman Sandler gets a happy ending but I barely saw his relief through the rainstorm on my face. AN

The courtroom, Kramer vs Kramer

By all accounts, Robert Bentons film Kramer vs Kramer skews heavily toward Dustin Hoffmans Ted, whose wife Joanna has left him and their six-year-old son Billy. Billy and Ted make french toast together, or argue about eating ice cream before dinner, or visit the nearby jungle gym. Were it not for Meryl Streep and the trenchant, intuitive way she humanizes a woman who, in the 70s, would have otherwise been made to seem mawkish and unstable Kramer vs Kramer might be just a schmaltzy panegyric on fatherhood.

But leave it to our greatest living actor to turn a film on its head with a single scene. You know the one: Joanna, during the custody hearing, is subjected to a string of sexist questions about her failure as a wife and a mother. When asked why shes seeking custody of Billy, she blinks three times, beginning the monologue Streep herself wrote in an effort to redeem her character, who she initially perceived to be an ogre, a princess, an ass.

Billys only seven years old. He needs me, she says, reciting the word need with a whispery uptick as she glances at her ex. Im not saying he doesnt need his father. But I really believe he needs me more. After catching her breath, she becomes more emphatic: I was his mommy for five and a half years. Since I was about Billys age when my parents got divorced, ergo, too young to understand or even care, Ive always been astonished and, by proxy, moved by how compassionately Streep plumbs the depths of Joannas truth. JN

The beach, Under the Skin

Little focuses the mind more effectively on human distress than the arrival of your own kids; scenes in films which I might once have snoozed through now induce boggle-eyed terror OH MY GOD, DONT LEAVE THAT BABY NEAR THAT COFFEE TABLE, IT HASNT GOT A CORNER PROTECTOR! But nothing has topped at least, not yet the scene in Under the Skin where Scarlett Johansson murders a swimmer and drags him off to eat him.

Its not the murder thats so epically upsetting, though its gruesome enough: Johansson, playing an alien visitor permanently on the lookout for human nutrients, simply bangs him over the head with a large stone as he lies prone and exhausted on the beach. Its what goes on in the background that is so awful. A woman goes into the water to try and rescue her drowning dog, and her male partner instinctively rushes in after her, leaving their toddler alone high on the shore. Johanssons chum the only other adult on this lonely Scottish beach goes to help too.

With the speed of falling dominoes, a nice little day out unravels: the mother and father are swept away to who knows where, and the alien takes her chance to acquire their would-be rescuer as a food source. Meanwhile, the suddenly abandoned kid is shrieking in terror as the night closes in. Another, less astute film-maker, might cap the scene with the alien scooping the kid up and adding him to her dinner menu, but what Glazer contrives is absolutely horrifying. Johansson-alien simply ignores it, and leaves it alone. The film moves on, this incident consigned to the past.

I have to confess I was absolutely blindsided by the scene; mostly, I think, because of the its sheer unexpectedness. I think I was gripped by a kind of internal hysteria: shock, hyperventilation, a feeling the back of my head might explode. (I cant say I actually cried though I may have, but in the confusion I cant really remember.) I certainly had to hold on to the seat to stop myself bolting out of the cinema then and there. I am aware theres a some degree of self-indulgence here: the fact that my daughter was about the same age as the kid in the film undoubtedly super-sensitised my reactions. But everyone has their weak spot; this is very much mine. AP

The birth, Cheaper by the Dozen 2

Cheaper by the Dozen 2, if you havent seen it you probably havent, why would you have? is the sequel to the remake of family comedy Cheaper by the Dozen, and Im sure it was made because Steve Martin, the star of the franchise, needed to pay his mortgage. The main gist of the movie is that Martin and his wife, played by Bonnie Hunt, have 12 children who get into various japes. Its asinine. But during a time in my life when I was making a lot of transatlantic flights, Cheaper By the Dozen 2 was always an option on the British Airways seatback televisions, and one day I found, because of the frequency of my flights, I had watched all of the other films.

What choice did I have? At the climactic scene, where the oldest daughter, played by Piper Perabo, gives birth, and then names the baby after her father because he has shown her that there is no way to be a perfect parent, but a million ways to be a really good one, I cried so much the man sitting next to me regarded me with what appeared to be real concern. There may have not been enough cocktail napkins on the whole plane to dry my tears. Was it the recycled air? Was it the two miniature bottles of white wine? Or was it that a joyful childbirth scene can warm the cockles of even the coldest of hearts? JHE

The accidental reunion, Manchester by the Sea

Weve got a real talent for repression back in Massachusetts. Kenneth Lonergans searing Manchester by the Sea plays out a 15-minute drive from my childhood home and, true to life, the characters all struggle to articulate the perfect storms of emotion raging within them.

When Lee (Casey Affleck) has a chance encounter with his ex-wife Randi (Michelle Williams), the shared history between them is literally unspeakable. They sputter out fragments of sentences that act as a shorthand for vast reservoirs of guilt and self-loathing they cant bear to express, and because they know one another so intimately, they can intuit all the meaning they have to. Theyve both shoved a lot deep down inside just so they can look at themselves in the mirror, and when in the presence of the only other person on the planet who understands what theyve been through, some of it has to come out. Randi does most of the talking, inviting Lee to lunch so they can get some closure, and he ends the conversation by walking away. Shes ready to face her past and be fully present in the new life shes built for herself. Lee, a North Shore boy born and bred, feels more comfortable starting a bar fight as his form of therapy. CB

The hotel, Unrelated

Joanna Hoggs first film, Unrelated, has had something of a second life on account of being the debut of Tom Hiddleston, and set during a Tuscan summer, which means swimming pool, which means toplessness, and lots of it. Its nice to imagine the Loki-lovers streaming this masterpiece of English upper-middle-class excruciation. As its ending shows, specificity is no barrier to emotional oomph.

The story sees a woman in her early 40s, Anna (Kathryn Worth), holidaying with old friends and their teenage children. She finds she prefers the company of the kids, especially the charming Oakley (Hiddleston, then 26, playing eight years younger). The holiday implodes. Anna goes to stay at a grim airport hotel. Her friend visits, crossly wanting to know whats behind her behaviour. Anna explains that, quite recently, she thought she was pregnant but no, in fact, it was an early menopause. Shell never be able to have children. She sobs and bends double on the bed. It is shot in one take, from the middle distance, acted with a banal frankness which feels like eavesdropping.

When I saw it a decade back, it floored me: a twist I hadnt foreseen, a pain I could only imagine. A few years ago, I began consciously avoiding the film, fearful a similar fate awaited me. Now I can safely watch it again or, I thought I could, but Hogg is much too superb and mysterious a film-maker for that. It isnt simply the information which is terrible, it is the dreadful catharsis of its expression, coming after so much obfuscation. The stifle has gone; instead there is the most awful sadness. Buttoning up is often the bravest way. CS

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us